Can't Go Home Again
by Linnie22
Summary: I'm impatient, so I wrote yet another version Danny following Lindsay to Montana. Angsty, happy. Now complete, as well. Sequel is coming soon. Spoiler for ep 18 maybe.
1. Chapter 1

A.N. All right, so I'm writing my own version of the Montana thing. Original, I know. But the cut of the phone call pissed me off, so I'm writing it myself. If only I was as genius as the actual writers.

No, I don't own anything. Well, maybe Lindsay's family.

Warnings: Graphic, violent, too dark to be all that fluffy. Though it has a happy ending. I swear. Also, the time frame is a little off surrounding Lindsay's departure to Montana in order to fit with my needs.

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Danny leaned forward slightly, just enough to show subtle interest, and let a half smile form on his lips. The girl looked down coyly before meeting his gaze from beneath her lashes. Her shyness was fake; she knew exactly what she was doing. Lisa—Leslie—whatever her name was—had talent; she made it almost look real.

But Danny had seen genuine shyness on a woman's face, appearing as the result of endless bouts of teasing, and he wasn't buying it. If his smile slipped a little, his eyes becoming a little colder, the girl didn't notice, busy toying with the stem of her wine glass in a calculated maneuver.

Letting his eyes flick quickly around the bar, Danny spotted Flack a few stools down, chatting up a blonde. She was laughing at something he'd said and Danny watched as Flack smiled back and continued his story, completely at ease. A spark of anger pulsed through Danny's veins, dangerously akin to resentment, but it was aimed towards himself.

Looking back at the girl in front of him, the irritation disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving him suddenly empty and tired. He wondered if the change was evident on his face, but Lisa's—Leslie's—confident expression didn't falter. Stifling a sigh, Danny smiled a bit more, rising from his stool.

Surprise flickered in her eyes, and she carefully tamped down on it. "Little boy's room?" she asked, tilting her head just slightly to the side.

Because he knew she wanted him to, Danny let his eyes follow the swish of her honey colored hair as it swept across her shoulder and barely resisted the urge to smirk. Oh, she was good. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to force any enthusiasm for finding out how good.

"Early morning," he answered, smiling casually to ease the sting to her ego.

"On a Saturday?" Her voice was calm, betraying none of her disappointment.

He shrugged. "It's the job."

Tossing a few bills on the bar as a tip, he nodded to the bartender and then to the girl. "Nice talking to you. Get home safe."

She wiggled her fingers at him with a friendly smile and turned to face the bar again. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny noticed several men watching his vacated seat. Ignoring them, he caught Flack's eye and pointed a thumb over his shoulder as he walked backwards out of the bar. Flack gave him a confused look and jerked his head towards Lisa. Danny just smiled a little and watched as Flack's face gave way to understanding and what looked like sympathy.

Hiding a wince, Danny turned and shouldered his way politely through the crowd. The shock of the frigid night air was welcome as he let his chin fall to his chest. Blowing out a breath, he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What're you doin, Messer?" he muttered, raising his head to glance back over his shoulder at the bar.

He knew what would happen if he went back in. He could find Lisa—or some other girl for that matter—finish what he'd started back at her place and discover just how good experienced teases could be. It was how he'd spent countless nights of his life, and he generally woke up satisfied and happy.

But somehow, it just didn't appeal to him. Calculated looks and touches designed to make his knees melt now left him only mildly interested.

Stepping to the curb, he raised his arm and waited for the cab to pull up beside him. When it screeched to a halt, he pulled the door open and rattled off his address before letting his head fall back with a loud thump.

"Rough night?" the cabbie asked in a thick accent that matched Danny's own.

"You have no idea," Danny countered with a raw laugh.

"Women." The exasperation was obvious in the cabbie's voice.

Danny nodded and glanced out the window. "Tell me 'bout it."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence as the cabbie picked his way back to Queens in the Friday night traffic. Usually, Danny didn't mind silence, but lately, when it was quiet, all he could hear was the sound of his own thoughts rattling loudly around his brain. And they were riotous. Dropping his face into his hands, he rubbed his palms roughly over his head.

"Here we go, buddy."

Looking up, Danny found them parked outside his apartment building. "Thanks," he muttered, pulling out the appropriate number of bills plus a good tip. He somehow felt this man understood his pain.

Tugging his keys from his jacket pocket, Danny trudged up the stairs to his apartment and opened the door. Mechanically, he slid the deadbolt and chain into place before letting his head fall forward to thunk against the wood. Pulling back, he let it fall gently against the door again a couple of times, groaning inwardly at his own hopelessness.

Then he straightened and slowly stepped into the apartment, dropping his keys onto the side table one of his aunt's had sent around when he moved in. He blindly tossed his jacket towards the couch, not bothering to see if it hit the target as he made a beeline for the fridge. And beer.

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Lindsay nearly crushed the test tube in her hand when she heard Danny's voice address Hawkes behind her. Quickly regaining her composure, she smoothed her face into an even expression, ignoring the way the other lab rats' eyes automatically swung to look at her.

"You got a name for our vic?"

Trying to block out the sound of their conversation, Lindsay carefully rested the test tube in the holder and began filling tiny vials with its contents.

"Not yet. Her prints weren't on file in AFIS. However, there was a bit of trace stuck in the print you found," Hawkes was telling him. It made her picture Danny leaning over to check out the trace under the microscope.

She could feel the eyes on her, just curious glances now, not the staring it used to be. Before she'd told Danny they had to be completely professional, the staring had been much worse. She'd heard the rumors around the lab; all the women were in love with him it seemed. They'd all watched to see what a plain girl from the country could possibly have that New York's finest couldn't offer.

Their resentment had hit her like pellets from a bb gun as they glared, but gradually that had died away as Danny spent less time paying attention to her and more time being "professional."

Danny had never seemed to notice the discord he caused by paying so much attention to her, but he'd never seemed to notice how women stared lustfully at him either. Maybe after all these years he just considered it part of life, like white noise in the background. Lindsay couldn't imagine going through every day knowing that half the population of any given room was staring at you. The idea was downright creepy.

To be honest, though, she couldn't blame the women for staring. She found herself watching him a bit too often for comfort. She couldn't help it. Danny managed to balance grace and lazy masculinity in a way that drew the eyes. It was almost like a tiger prowling a cage.

Coffee. She definitely needed coffee.

Carefully placing the capped vials in their slots, she closed the lid of the machine and pressed the appropriate buttons before stripping off her gloves and striding from the lab. It would take at least ten minutes to get those results, definitely enough time to grab a power bar and a cup of coffee.

Pushing open the glass door, she hurried across the room, delighted to find fresh coffee in the carafe. She grabbed her mug out of the cupboard and began pouring while she slid open a drawer with her other hand and snatched up a power bar. She had just replaced the coffee pot and was heading to the couch when her phone began to vibrate.

Frowning, she quickly set her mug down on the high table and pulled the phone out of its holster. 406-555-7914. Dread filled her as she took in the number. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she flipped the phone open and held it to her ear. "Monroe," she snapped, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Lindsay, it's Greg."

Reaching up, she rubbed her forehead and tried to make her voice a little more pleasant. "Hi, Greg. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I just wanted to give you the heads up."

Lindsay felt her fingers clench around the edge of the table. "They've picked the date?"

She heard Greg sigh on the other end. "Lindsay, I'm sorry. If we could do this another way we would."

"I know," she muttered. "But there isn't another way."

"Not unless another witness pops out of the woodwork." Lindsay winced and, after a moment, Greg groaned. "I'm sorry. Gallows humor, I guess."

"Don't worry about it. When do I need to be back?"

"The trial starts the first of next month. We'd need you back a couple of weeks before that though—"

"Two weeks. Got it. I'll let you know when my plane lands."

"Lindsay, I really am—"

"Sorry?" she asked on a humorless chuckle. "I know, Greg, but don't be. I've always known I'd have to do this. I'll talk to you in a couple of weeks."

She didn't wait for his goodbye before flipping the phone closed. Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of her throat, she looked up and let her eyes lock on Mac, pacing in his office. After a moment, her eyes strayed back to her coffee and the power bar, lying benignly on the table. Sliding the phone back in its place, she picked up both and dropped them in the trash on her way to see Mac.

The conversation was easier than she'd expected it to be, possibly because Mac was already familiar with the story. He'd even brought it up in her interview; not one of the most comfortable conversations she'd ever participated in.

But when it was done and the ease of having that particular hurdle behind her finally hit, she immediately felt that ease give way to sheer panic over what lay ahead of her. The worst part was that it strung before her indefinitely. Murder trials were never quick. At least not the ones taking place ten years late.

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When Danny found the note, his stomach clenched at the sight of her handwriting. He'd helped her complete enough paperwork for it to be almost as familiar as his own, and he eyed the familiar curvature of the letters with trepidation. A part of him had been waiting for this. The grand kiss off. He'd known it was coming as soon as he saw Mac hug her in his office.

Mac didn't hug.

But then he opened it and found a silly note about cows heading home to Montana and a promise to call him soon. He felt unabashedly relieved and returned to the case at hand feeling lighter than he had in weeks, the card safely tucked inside his jacket.

It didn't say why she had to go home for a while, but that didn't bother him until hours later when he was laying on his couch, card tossed haphazardly on the coffee table. The realization hit him suddenly, right as the ballgame came back from another commercial, and made him sit straight up.

Snatching the card off the table, he scanned the lines again. Initially, the "Montana" scrawled at the bottom had blinded him to the rest of the note. Now he read through it again, trying desperately to decipher the real meaning behind her words.

Remembering the serious expression Lindsay had worn as she left Mac's office, Danny knew that she wasn't going home for a bit of a breather or a visit with Mom. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the issues she'd vaguely mentioned she had to deal with.

The card also didn't say when she'd be coming back, and that fact was quickly tying his stomach in knots.

Tossing the card back down on the table, he glanced over at his silent phone. All he could do now was cool his heels and wait. Wait for her to call, as she'd promised she would. (How soon was soon in her book? A day, a week?) Wait for her to tell him what he desperately wanted—needed—to know.

Danny Messer had never been good at sitting still.

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A.N. Okay, the next chapter will be up later on today. This whole story is pretty much done, I just have to edit the last few chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. Thanks to Muzzy-Olorea and chili-peppers for reviewing! I appreciate the encouragement.

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Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell, automatically noting the lack of new messages before answering. "Hey, Mac."

He paused and listened, watching as Hawkes circled the victim slowly, camera in hand. "Yeah, we're here, but we're still waiting on the ME. Uh-huh. How long?" he asked incredulously.

Hawkes looked up and blinked at Danny calmly before returning to his careful documenting. Danny rocked back on his heels restlessly. "Sure, sure. Yeah. We got it."

Ending the call, Danny spun his phone around his palm absently. "ME went to Stella's scene first. We're gonna have to process without disturbing the vic."

Hawkes nodded easily. "Fine then."

Pocketing the cell, Danny moved his shoulders around as if his clothes were too tight. "I'll take the kitchen," he muttered, leaning down to pick up his kit.

He felt Hawkes's eyes on his back as he strode jerkily away, following the blood trail to the back of the house.

He knew the look that would be on Hawkes's face if he turned. It was the same look of careful, sympathetic regard that Stella gave him every time he glanced at his phone—something he now meticulously avoided doing in her presence. He hated that look, and its appearance had been increasing in frequency over the past two weeks.

Setting his kit down on the floor just outside the kitchen, he eyed the bloody mess covering the walls with detachment. Leaning down, he opened the case and pulled out a pair of gloves. Snapping them into place, he tried to decide where to start. Both the floor and the walls were sporadically covered in a red runny mess.

Pulling out some swabs and his tester, he stepped carefully into the center of the room, avoiding the seemingly random drops and pools on the floor.

"Jesus."

Glancing part way over his shoulder, he nodded as Detective Angell came up beside him. "Yeah."

"All that come from our vic?" Angell asked incredulously, leaning over the threshold to glance around inside the room.

Danny shook his head and crouched to swab the floor. "No way. No one has this much blood in their body."

Uncapping the tester, he carefully dripped the clear liquid onto the cotton swab and raised an eyebrow as it turned the usual purple. Angell cleared her throat. "Doesn't that mean it's blood?"

"Yeah," Danny murmured, taking in the patterns along the floor and wall. "Your boys checked the place out. No other bodies?"

"Place was empty 'cept for our vic," Angell confirmed, checking her notepad. "Person who made the call doesn't live here."

"Then I hope this isn't all blood." Pulling out more swabs, Danny cautiously inched his way over to the next set of pools.

Angell frowned. "Why's that?"

Shaking his head, Danny crouched to test another pool. "Cuz then we'd have more bodies to find."

Danny worked in silence, moving around the room in a spiral pattern and testing any pools or drops that appeared disassociated with the pools. Half an hour later, Hawkes came down the hall and nodded politely to Angell. "Danny."

"Yo," he answered, not bothering to look up as he picked his way over to another area.

"ME's here."

"Bout damn time." Raising his head, he found Hawkes giving him that damn look while Angell stared between them curiously. "I'll stick with the kitchen. This is not looking good for us," he said, holding up another colorful swab.

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Danny stared through the blinds at the woman sitting nervously at the desk. As he watched, she reached up to smooth back a piece of hair that had escaped her tight bun only to ignore it when it fell back a few moments later. She looked to be about his age, a little younger maybe, and worn. It might have been the discovery of her neighbor's slaughtered remains, but the woman seemed prematurely aged, like her soul was somehow tired.

Glancing down at the DNA results, he sighed. She was basically their only hope of sorting out the mess.

Shaking his head, he pushed through the door into the noisy outer office. The woman's head jerked up at the sudden movement, and he smiled soothingly as he slid into the chair. "I'm Detective Messer. You must be Miss Hughes."

"Winnie." Her voice was almost a whisper, but she met his eyes directly.

His smile faded and he leaned forward. "Winnie, I know you've already spoken to the police about this—"

She shrugged, as if dismissing his apology as folly. "What do you need to know?"

"Everything you can remember. I know this must be difficult for you," he said, eyes locked on her.

Her mouth turned up at the corner, but it wasn't a smile. "Sure, but it doesn't matter. If I can help you find out who did this to Brenda…" She shook her head. "I'll tell you what I can."

Taking a deep breath, he flipped open the case file in front of him. "It says here that you found the body a little after eleven. Is that right?"

Winnie nodded. "Yes. I-I was coming over to return a book I'd borrowed from Brenda. It had to have been after eleven because I had a meeting early this morning, and I didn't get home until around then. I went over right after that."

"And there wasn't anybody else in the house?"

"Not that I could see, but I only went as far as the living room. Brenda was—" She cut herself off to take a deep breath. "Was…lying there. I…I called 911 on my cell and checked her pulse when they told me to."

"Did you stay in the house?"

Winnie nodded and smoothed the errant strand behind her ear again. "I waited with her until the paramedics got there."

"And in all that time, you didn't see anybody else?" Danny pressed, leaning his forearms on the table.

"No, no one."

"Did Brenda live with anybody?" he asked, looking up to meet her eyes again.

Winnie frowned and shook her head. "Only her daughter."

Danny froze. "Daughter?"

"Yes," Winnie said, swallowing hard as she accidentally caught a glimpse of the photos in the file. "She has a six year old. Had," she amended after a short pause.

"And you didn't mention this earlier because?" Danny snapped, flipping the file closed and pulling out his phone.

"But…I did," Winnie whispered, eyes wide as Danny exploded from his chair, already dialing Angell.

"To who?" he barked while the phone rang in his ear.

"The woman who questioned me earlier," Winnie insisted. Danny watched as she clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking. "The detective."

"Angell?" Danny asked incredulously right as she picked up on the other end.

"Jeez Messer, hello to you too."

Motioning for Winnie to stay put, Danny slammed his way back through the door he'd come through. "Brenda Mueller had a kid, Angell. Where is she?"

"I've got two uniforms headed over to the school right now. What's your damage?"

"There were three different blood samples in that kitchen. That means two more, very missing, bodies. Why didn't you tell me she had a kid?"

"It's in the file."

Hearing her irritated voice behind him, Danny whirled and found her striding down the hall towards him. "No it's not," he yelled both at her and into the phone.

Simultaneously, they slammed their phones shut and faced off, unaware of the wary glances they were getting from the other officers in the hallway. "It has to be. You must have missed it," she snapped, hands on her hips.

"Oh, I think I would have noticed something about a missing kid," he argued. "What the hell else is missing from the damn file?"

Angell glared at him, but appeared to be reining in her temper. "Look, Messer. I did my job. I put everything Winnie Hughes told me in the file I gave you. I don't know why you didn't know about the kid."

They both heard her phone buzz loudly. Danny ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight from foot to foot as she pulled her cell out of the holster on her belt. "Angell. Yeah." Her eyes slowly slid closed. "Yeah. I'm on it."

Danny crossed her arms over his chest and waited as she started dialing again. Meeting his eyes, she calmly told him, "Kid was a no show at school today."

Wincing as Danny threw the file against the wall, Angell turned and began walking towards the door. "I need an Amber alert over the wire. Abby Mueller. Six years old. Don't have a description yet. Yeah. I'll get back to you in two."

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Danny set a cup of water down in front of Winnie. "Sorry that took so long. The more detailed the description of Abby, the better chance we have of finding her."

"I understand, Detective Messer," Winnie said with a wan smile, wrapping a hand around the cup, but not bringing it to her mouth. "It never occurred to me that Abby wouldn't be at school. Though I suppose that makes sense. Brenda was in her pajamas…"

Danny let his gaze slide away as her voice broke. A few seconds later, he heard her take a shaky breath, and he lifted his eyes back to hers. "Was Brenda seeing anyone?"

Winnie sniffled a little, her brow wrinkling. "No, I don't think so."

"You're sure?" Danny asked, handing her a tissue.

"Thank you. Brenda didn't date much," Winnie explained, patting at her nose. "And she never brought them home when she did. She didn't want them near Abby."

"Why not?" Danny asked, frowning.

Winnie shrugged. "We never really talked about it. She never went on more than a couple of dates with a guy before she called it off. Maybe she didn't want Abby getting used to one man if she was just going to break up with him a few weeks or months later."

"Who was the last man she dated?"

"I don't know," Winnie said, shaking her head. "It was months ago and I was in and out of town on business."

"She never said anything to you about him? Anything at all," he added when she started to shake her head again.

Biting her lip, Winnie stared down at her hands for a few long moments. When she raised her head, she looked apologetic. "I think she said that she'd met him through work, but that doesn't really make sense."

"Why's that?" Danny asked.

"Brenda works at a hospice. And the director hires an all female staff."

Despite his efforts to remain neutral, Danny felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

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Stepping off the elevator on the 35th floor, Danny found Hawkes waiting for him. He barely glanced at the other man before taking off down the hallway, his nose buried in the Mueller file.

Hawkes calmly fell into step next to him. "Any leads on our mystery man?"

"Nope. Winnie claims that Brenda didn't bring dates home. Didn't want strange men near her daughter."

"Sounds plausible," Hawkes said. "So why the face?"

Danny glanced up from the file. "None of this adds up. One body. One blood trail leading to that body. Yet we have a house full of blood from three different victims. How did the killer get the other two vics out of the house?"

"Could the other two victims have bled out in the kitchen?" Danny shrugged as they pushed the door to the lab open and stepped over to the table Hawkes had covered in crime scene photos. "Then the killer could have carried them out without much mess."

"But there would still have been drops of blood leading out of the house. Wounds don't magically clean themselves."

"Maybe he wrapped the bodies in something. Like…a bedsheet or a shower curtain."

Danny shook his head. "No disturbance of the blood pools."

"Maybe he put the sheets in the hall; carried the bodies to them. With all the spatter, you wouldn't be able to pick up a dripped trail."

Nodding, Danny studied the pictures of the scene. "Makes sense. But why take two of the bodies and leave one behind?"

Hawkes shook his head. "Plus, all that blood, the killer had to have stepped in it at some point. But there are no foot prints anywhere in the house," Hawkes murmured, moving his finger over the undisturbed blood patterns on the floor.

Danny blew out a breath. "Like I said, it don't make sense."

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When Flack knocked on the glass wall next him, Danny nearly jumped out of his skin. Glancing over, he nodded and pointed to the break room where Hawkes was enjoying a well-deserved break.

Straightening, Danny looked over all the evidence they'd collected. The trace on Brenda Mueller's clothes had added more questions than answers to the case. Nicotine, though Winnie insisted Brenda didn't smoke and hated anyone who did; jasmine pollen, despite a distinct lack of flowers, which Winnie claimed Abby was allergic to; and a couple splinters of aged, long-dead wood, though none of the wood furniture matched the sample.

All Danny knew was that the killer smoked, had touched a jasmine plant and had been near dead wood in the last 24 hours. He was a real Sherlock Holmes.

Seven hours and Abby Mueller was still missing while Danny was no closer to finding her.

Time of death had come back as being around seven that morning, which meant that the killer had to have carried two bodies away in the full light of day. The neighborhood their vic had lived in was an upper-middle class suburb. Morning was its busiest time. Yet not a single neighbor had seen or heard a damn thing.

"Danny."

Looking up, Danny found Mac standing in the doorway. "What's up?" he asked, gathering some of the pictures together.

"Go home."

Surprised, Danny nearly dropped the stack of papers in his hand. "What? Mac, I'm no where near done."

"You're useless to me when you're this tired. Go home, get some sleep. Come back in the morning."

Mac's face was bland, and Danny sighed, knowing it was a waste of time to argue. "Yeah, all right." He dumped the photos back into the evidence box and began picking up the rest of the bags.

"Get some dinner while you're at it," Mac added, rapping his knuckles on the glass as he walked away.

Danny glanced back over at the break room and saw Flack leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets as Hawkes quietly spoke to him. He caught their attention by waving his hand and picked up the box to let them know he needed to put it away. They both jerked their heads in response and turned back to their conversation.

Moving across the hall, he unlocked the evidence closet and slid the box into place. For a moment, he stood there, eyeing the box, doubting he could solve this one.

Then he shook himself. Never out of evidence.

Pulling out his phone, he flipped it open and was greeted with a blank screen. No new messages. No missed calls. He was used to the disappointment, though, and it barely registered as he quickly scrolled down to Angell's number in his contacts.

"This better be good, Messer."

"I'm going back to the scene. You should probably come." He pushed open the door to the locker room and crossed to his locker, thumping the sweet spot to make it pop open. Quickly grabbing his jacket and messenger bag, he was halfway out the door by the time his locker slammed behind him.

"Now?"

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Tomorrow morning. Meet me in front of the station house at nine."

"Thank God," he heard her mutter before the click signaled the end of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he stepped up next to Hawkes and Flack. They both turned to him and glanced at his phone in question.

"Angell. We're heading back over to the house at nine."

"Do you need me to meet you?" Hawkes asked as the three men moved towards the elevators.

"Nah. I think we got it. I just wanna go over the house again, see if we missed anything." Clapping his hands once loudly, he licked his lips and rubbed his palms together. "I'm starving."

"When aren't you starving? You're like a bottomless pit," Flack said as they stepped into the elevator.

Danny brushed the teasing off good-naturedly as the elevator sank down towards the lobby. "Yeah, yeah. You should see this guy when my mother makes cannoli," he muttered to Hawkes. "Must have a hollow leg."

"What's cannoli?" Hawkes innocently glanced from one shocked face to another then frowned. "What?"

Flack blinked at him for a moment, but managed to recover his voice before Danny. "You ain't never had cannoli?"

"No," Hawkes answered hesitantly.

"You ain't lived, doc."

Danny laughed at Flack's reverent tones, following a beat behind as the men stepped off the elevator. He nodded good night to the cops he recognized and shoved his hands in his pockets.

A sudden thought made his feet stumble a little.

Flack turned back as he and Hawkes pushed open the front doors to the precinct. "You okay, Messer?"

"Yeah," Danny muttered, still frowning at the floor. When he looked up, he found his friends staring at him with confusion. "Sorry, I was just—Nevermind. Sullivan's?"

"Where else?" Flack asked as Danny breezed by and out the door.

Determined not to give them anything to worry about or, God forbid, ask him about, Danny joked and laughed the night away at Sullivan's. He flirted with the waitress when she gave him the opportunity. He needled Flack about a girl the detective had picked up the week before.

He ordered three beers before he decided enough time had passed that he could slip away without seeming off somehow. And, finally, he found himself on the subway in a miraculously empty compartment, considering the revelation he'd had hours earlier.

He knew everyone in the lab, knew most of the precinct by last name, if not first. He was sure that if he suddenly disappeared in the middle of the day and never came back, everyone would notice. Yet, not one person had inquired after Lindsay in the entire two weeks she'd been gone.

Could that be right? Could Lindsay really have kept herself isolated from an entire precinct full of people? Did she have a single friend outside of their tight—perhaps abnormally so—team?

They had hung out a few times, a couple trips to Sullivan's, a game or two watched on his big screen. The only real clue he had to her life outside of work was the time she'd shown up in opera attire. So he knew she'd had one date in almost two years, liked football, and ate almost as much as he did. But really, what were those but minor details on her life?

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Lindsay rubbed the back of her neck tiredly, trying to ease the crick that had been there practically since her arrival in Montana nearly two weeks before. She stifled a groan and shifted uncomfortably in the chair in front of the district attorney's desk. She felt bone weary and emotionally beaten, but she wasn't giving up.

Not that anyone would let her.

Suddenly, a steaming mug appeared in front of her face. "Here."

"Thanks," Lindsay said with a grateful smile. Taking a deep gulp of the hot coffee, she watched Greg move around to the other side of the desk. "What next?"

"We need to go over your testimony a couple more times." She nodded tightly, and Greg winced. "Lindsay, I'm sorry. We just have to make sure that it's airtight."

"I understand."

Greg was still eyeing her worriedly with the same look she'd been getting from everyone in Bozeman since she got back. Her mother was arguably the worst, but she felt the stares on her back as she walked through the police station or even down the street. There was pity in it, which didn't sit well with her, but there was also fear. As if everyone thought she would fall apart at the slightest gust of wind. It was worse now that the trial had been bumped back a week; the entire town was tense.

Lifting her chin, Lindsay gave him a steely glare. "That man has walked free for ten years. After what he did, I want to make sure we put him away. Do what you have to do."

Nodding, Greg flipped open one of the myriad files on his desk and scanned the contents. Lindsay watched him for a moment, then her eyes strayed to her bag. She wondered how things were going in New York. She should have called Danny by now, but she just couldn't. She was too much of a mess. Wincing at her own cowardice, she let her eyes come back to Greg.

He took a deep breath and began. "Miss Monroe, what do you remember about that day?"

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The plan had been nine am. Unfortunately, a new crime scene had popped up and the lab was stretched pretty thin with Lindsay's absence, so Mac had sent Danny to process the apparent burglary turned homicide. A nervous Adam had been sent along as Danny's accomplice, which had surprised Danny until Mac had pulled him aside to explain.

"With Lindsay gone, I need more hands in the field," Mac had told him, ignoring the way Danny's shoulders tensed when her name was mentioned. "I've been training Adam as a field agent off and on for a couple of years now. He's good, efficient; he can help if you let him."

Danny had nodded wordlessly and set off down the hall with the file in hand, having spotted Adam in the corner lab on the way in. Adam hadn't seemed overly excited at the prospect of another day in the field, but he'd followed Danny to the van with minimal muttering.

By the time he and Angell reached the Mueller scene, sunset was beginning to send muted colors over the sky and painted the inside of the house in an odd orange glow. Danny shined his flashlight around the baseboards of the wood paneled hall. Angell watched him from her position near the front door, trying not to distract him. The constant staring made Danny look up once and raise his eyebrow, but she just frowned and jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

"You want me to wait outside?"

He shrugged and returned his attention to the task at hand. "Whatever."

Painfully slowly, he moved along the baseboards, gradually working his way towards the doorway to the kitchen. The stench of blood was hard to remove, especially in the heat of sunlight, and he paused to take a breath before getting any closer.

The lowered sun shining through the window in the back door heated the narrow hallway and he found himself wishing he'd come back later, after the sun had sunk below the trees. The house was a good ten degrees hotter than it had been the previous afternoon.

Once he reached the back door, he turned to face the other wall and began moving back towards the living room.

"Finding anything?"

He barely controlled a start, having forgotten Angell's presence. "Nothing we didn't see yesterday."

Sighing, he clicked the flashlight off. The sun was glaring in through the window in the door. He reached up to mop the sweat off his forehead.

"What am I missing?" Danny muttered to himself, staring vacantly at the wall.

Angell came up behind him. Not bothering to glance over his shoulder, he pointed to the door. "He came in through the back, but no prints. So, he either wore gloves or cleaned up after himself."

"Imagine that. A man who cleans up after himself."

"Funny," Danny sighed. "There's no evidence that he went past the kitchen, so mother and daughter would have to have been inside. Maybe finishing breakfast."

"You said there's no evidence of him at all. How do you know he wasn't upstairs?"

"Only disturbance in the house is in the kitchen. We printed every room, got no prints that didn't match Brenda or the prints the school had on file for Abby."

Angell nodded and Danny continued with the story. "So, he comes in the back door, finds Brenda and Abby in the kitchen with an unidentified male."

"Jealousy maybe?" Angell asked as Danny poked his head into the kitchen.

"Neighbor said Brenda never brought men home. Why would she suddenly bring two?"

Angell shrugged. "Thought it was love?"

"Maybe," Danny muttered doubtfully.

"What? You never been in love, Messer?" Angell teased.

When he found that he couldn't force a smirk, Danny turned back to the wall opposite the kitchen. "I don't do love."

"There was a strange spatter pattern here on the panel," he continued without pause, pointing along the wood. "The spatter formed a diminishing pattern, indicating the killer was in the hallway near the back door when he cut Brenda's neck. But the pattern doesn't match what we'd expect from the wound," he muttered, eyeing the wall and the area the pattern pointed to.

"Couldn't it have been arterial spray?" Angell asked, following Danny's gaze to the living room.

He shook his head. "The wall's flat, so the spray wouldn't have directionality. It would have hit evenly."

"She was crawling," Angell offered then made a face. "Not moving fast enough."

"Not unless she crawled backwards at about fifteen miles an hour."

Angell sighed. "So unless this wall has changed position since the murder, the killer was standing in front of the door to the porch when he cut her."

Danny froze and turned to look at her. She furrowed her brow at his intense expression. "What?"

Ignoring her, Danny crouched and began examining the panel, flashlight trained along its edges. When he got to the left edge, he stopped and lowered the flashlight.

"Something wrong?" Angell asked.

Danny's voice was grim. "Call Hawkes."

Taking out her phone, Angell frowned as she dialed. "Why?" When he didn't answer, she put the phone to her ear and moved back down the hall towards the living room.

Gently, Danny pushed on the left side of the panel and watched it inch forward. Pushing slightly harder, he got it open a few more inches before he spotted the tiny sock-clad foot.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, letting his head drop to hang between his shoulders.

"He found something," he heard Angell telling Hawkes. "He didn't exactly share," she added wryly after a pause.

"Angell," he called.

"Just a sec. What, Messer?"

"Get the ME down here, too."

She stayed frozen for a moment then became a flurry of motion. "Hawkes, get your ass down here. I gotta call the ME. We don't know yet."

"Damn it," Danny repeated, unable to tear his eyes away from the one visible foot.

"Messer. Hey, Messer."

Finally, Danny looked up and saw her at the end of the hallway, hands on her hips. Standing, he started to walk towards her. "I think we found Abby."

Angell hid her wince admirably well, but Danny turned his face away, unable to offer much sympathy. All he could picture was the lace edging on the tiny sock, stained with red. It made him sick to his stomach.

"I'm gonna wait outside," Angell whispered, already moving towards the front door.

Danny watched her run away, part of him wanting to do the same, part wanting to comfort her somehow. But his determination to catch the son of a bitch who did it won, and he picked up his kit.

By the time Hawkes and the ME arrived, Danny had reprinted the entire panel and was rapping his knuckles on the wall.

Hawkes stepped up beside him, and Danny started explaining without any urging. "It's a small room, just about the size of this panel and the next. It looks like a crawl space that led to the basement before that was closed off."

"How can you tell?" Hawkes asked, picking up an electric handsaw.

Glancing at him, Danny shrugged. "She's lying on solid floor, not stairs. And these old places all had basements originally."

"How far from the wall is she?" Hawkes asked, sliding his goggles into place.

"Maybe six inches."

"Stand back."

Nodding, Danny slid his own goggles down onto his nose and stepped backwards toward the porch door. Hawkes flipped the switch and the saw spun to life, cutting through the wood panel easily. He had it off its hinges in less than a minute.

When Hawkes shut off the saw, Danny hurried over to help move the panel out of its socket. The ME swooped in immediately, partially blocking their view of the child, who—aside from the copious amounts of blood on her clothes and the floor—appeared to be sleeping.

Danny felt his fists clench when the panel was taken from him by one of the lab techs Hawkes had brought along to help, presumably on route back to the lab. Her face was peaceful in the fading light of twilight. But he knew what she'd experienced; the nightmare she hadn't survived.

He could only hope that wherever she was now, she truly was at peace.

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The prints he'd found on the panel were matched to Abby before Danny and Hawkes left the scene. There wasn't much else they could do until the ME processed the body, so they decided to meet back at the lab after dinner and catch Sid before he left. When they stepped out of the house, Angell still looked a bit sick, and Danny felt a strong dose of guilt when he remembered the way he'd broken the news.

"You need a ride home?" he muttered as Hawkes drifted off towards the other lab vehicle.

She nodded wordlessly and followed him to the van. "Thanks," she murmured, turning to stare out the window as they buckled their seatbelts.

He nodded brusquely and pulled out. When he looked askance at her, she quickly gave him directions and went back to staring out the window. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, which was fine with him, it gave him plenty of time for tortured thoughts.

When Danny pulled into a twenty minute zone halfway down the block from her building, he was almost surprised that she turned to look at him. He was sure he wore a matching shell-shocked expression on his face, but she tried to smirk at him. "You look like hell," she told him with a bit of her usual snap.

"Thanks. You, too." He was pretty sure she understood that he appreciated the attempt.

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "You want some coffee? You're going back to the lab, right?"

"Yeah. Coffee would be great."

He silently followed her out of the car, up the block, into the building and into the elevator before either of them spoke a word. "I thought this would be easier."

He glanced at her. "What?"

"I thought it would be like any other body," she said, still staring at the dinged metal of the elevator doors.

"Never had a kid before?" he asked, more as something to say since she seemed to want a response. He was pretty sure she'd already given him the answer.

"No." She stepped out of the elevator and moved down the hall, pulling out her keys with bone weary movements. "You?" she asked as she unlocked her door.

Pushing it open, she walked into the darkness of the apartment without bothering to see if he'd follow without an explicit invitation. He shut the door behind him and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to turn on the lights before answering.

"Yeah. A couple." He swallowed and tried for a wry smile. "It never gets any easier."

She gazed at him vacantly. He wished there was something he could say to make it easier for her, but there really wasn't. Comfort was empty at times when you suddenly found yourself facing the raw evil of the world.

"Kids love secret passages," Angell murmured absently. "It must have been her favorite hiding place."

Staring at Angell's exhausted face, Danny couldn't think of anything to say. He wished he could feel anything aside from the rage and desperation churning in his gut. When her eyes finally came into focus and met his, he saw those same feelings reflected in her.

His hands were cupping her face before he could even make the decision to move. Her eyes widened in surprise as his head dropped the scant inches between them and his lips captured hers. It wasn't gentle. It was harsh and demanding, almost punishing really, as if he was trying to draw any sort of feeling from her. Desperate to bury the images burned into his brain.

He felt her responding in kind, seamlessly melding with him. But there was no satisfaction in it. He kept going until he felt her arms wind around his neck. Then he jerked back, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and firmly pressing her arms down towards her chest.

"I can't do this," he murmured, looking anywhere but at her. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

"Danny," she called after him as he strode to the door. Her New York accent on his name made him grimace. This wasn't what he wanted.

Pausing at the door, his hand on the knob, he lowered his head for a moment in shame. He knew it was a shitty move. Something he hadn't done since he'd left behind his asinine teenage self. But everything about her screamed that she wasn't Lindsay, and he just couldn't take the reminder. Not after everything else.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, more to the doorknob than to her, and yanked the door open. He was down the hall at the elevator before he heard the door click shut behind him.

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Letting his elbows rest on his knees, he cradled the phone in his hands and stared down at the screen. The backlight had shut off minutes ago, but he still stared as if he thought he could make her call by force of will alone.

The autopsy had revealed that Abby died of blood loss at the same time as her mother. The cold of the hidden alcove had preserved the body and delayed decomposition, though rigor was in full effect. Abby seemed to have received much less attention from the killer than her mother, which could indicate that Abby was collateral damage.

Danny ran a hand through his hair in frustration. If Lindsay were around, he could talk it through with her, and she'd have more to say than "Couldn't it have been arterial spray?"

He winced at the reminder of Angell. His mind flashed back to the moment he'd grabbed her. He'd been searching for some kind of feeling and he'd found it, but it hadn't been what he was expecting or even hoping for. Instead of losing himself in mindless pleasure, he'd found supreme disappointment.

He couldn't help it. He'd tried to stay away from her since she'd asked him to back off. He'd stayed distant and professional, even when she started to fall apart. He wanted to help somehow, but she didn't want that, didn't need him to play the superhero or white knight. Which was just fine and dandy since he wasn't sure he could pull off either role.

Angell had fit nicely against him, like any woman would he supposed. But Lindsay had fit neatly into the crook of his neck as she hid her face there. His cheek had come to rest on her head naturally. But unlike Angell, who'd been a willing party, Lindsay had only let him hold her when she'd been too scared to resist.

It was this thought that made him frown. Could she be forcing herself not to rely on him? Maybe she was trying not to rely on him because she didn't want to burden him.

All that crap was wishful thinking. He knew it and raised a hand to scrub over his face. Kissing Angell had just reinforced what he already knew: that he wasn't ready to give up on Lindsay.

Sudden determination filled him. Quickly, he hit speed dial 4 and send. _Montana_ appeared on the screen and he felt his stomach twist nervously. Putting the phone to his ear, he listened intently. After five rings, his eyes fell shut with disappointment, and when her voicemail picked up, he hung his head.

"Hi, you've reached Lindsay Monroe. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." BEEP.

Danny swallowed. "Hey, Lindsay. It's Danny. I was just callin to say hi." His pride was ruined; he might as well go for it all. Double or nothing. "I hope…things are okay." He paused and took a deep breath he was sure she'd hear on the other end. "I miss you."

Pressing end, he tossed the phone onto the cushions beside him and covered his face with his hands. Why had he done that? She asks him to give her space, and he basically pours his heart out on her voicemail?

Blowing out his breath, he stood and headed towards his fridge. He'd done it and he couldn't take it back. But he could get a beer.

Grabbing a bottle off the top shelf, he twisted off the cap and chugged half the bottle before the fridge even swung shut behind him. He contemplated the various take-out menus attached to his fridge, wondering if he'd be able to keep anything down tonight.

The sudden sound of his ring tone breaking the silence froze him in place for a moment, staring at the back of the couch. Slowly at first, as if underwater, he walked over and picked up the cell.

"Montana" flashed at him, making him fumble with the phone a little before he managed to press send. "Hello?"

"Danny. It's Lindsay."

Her voice was calm and quiet, reaching in and silencing the raging in his mind left over from the case. "Hey, Montana. I see you got my message."

For some reason he couldn't quite pinpoint, he sounded winded, like he was out of breath.

"Yeah, I did," she murmured. "Thanks for calling."

"Don't mention it," he said casually, easing himself back down onto the couch. Now that he had her on the phone, he wasn't quite sure what to say. There was a moment of silence between them that felt tense and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," she suddenly blurted out. "Things have been…hectic since I got back. I feel like I haven't had a chance to breathe since I stepped off the plane." She paused. "What time is it there?" she asked, sounding nervous.

A small smile ticked up the corner of his mouth. It hadn't been him. It hadn't been a brush off. "Midnight. Twelve thirty. Somethin like that."

"You just getting back from the lab?"

He sank down into the cushions and let his head rest against the back of the couch. "Yeah, sorta."

"Tough case?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he muttered, letting his eyes drift closed against the white of his ceiling.

He tried to picture where she might be. In bed? It was ten o'clock there, he now realized. Too late for a coworker to be calling. But they were more than coworkers damn it, and she never went to bed before eleven in New York. He remembered her saying she watched the ten o'clock news whenever she got home in time.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He could hear the worry in her tone, though she tried to disguise it as curiosity. He almost groaned. Here she was trying to deal with her issues, and he rears his head to tell her about a possibly triple homicide involving a kid that there didn't seem to be a chance at resolving.

"Nah," he said, trying to sound casual.

"You sure?"

"Montana, trust me. You don't need to hear about this one right now," he told her gently. "How are things over there?"

He heard her take a deep breath over the telephone line. "About as well as can be expected, I guess."

He paused to see if she'd say more, but her voice had been suspiciously shaky. "You okay?" he murmured, his brow furrowing as his eyes slid open again.

She coughed a little bit, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Yeah. I'll be okay. Look, I should go, Danny. I have a meeting at eight."

Worry was beginning to eat at his defenses. "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks again for calling."

"Don't mention it. Call me if you need anything," he added, grimmacing at the nearly audible vulnerability.

"I will."

He straightened on the couch and moved the phone away from his mouth for a moment. Helplessly, he eased his fingers under the nosepiece on his glasses to rub his eyes. "Okay, well. Have a good night."

"Danny," she said seriously.

His hand fell back to his lap. "Yeah?"

"I miss you, too."

Her voice was almost matter-of-fact, as if she'd been on the verge of chickening out and was trying to cover. His smile was uncontrollable. "Yeah."

Silence hung heavily over the phone line for a minute, then she hurriedly said, "Night."

"Night." Before he was finished, the line was dead in his ear. Dropping the phone on the cushion next to him, he smiled incredulously and shook his head.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. Thanks to **Tenley,** **specialfrog, **and** mel60** for reviewing chapter 2! I really appreciate the feedback, guys. You're awesome.

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Walking into Brenda's work the next day with Angell felt awkward, but she'd met him that morning with her usual greeting and hadn't acted any differently than she had the morning before. Apparently, she was planning on treating last night like it had never happened.

Which was fine by him, but he still felt he owed her some sort of explanation. A hospice was certainly not the place for that sort of conversation, though, so Danny kept his mouth firmly shut.

When they checked in at the front desk, the receptionist informed them that the woman who ran the hospice, Evelyn Young, would come down to meet them. Nicole, as she'd introduced herself, spent most of the time the detectives were waiting trying to coerce Danny into flirting. As usual, he tried to be polite about it, but was feeling a little uncomfortable by the time Evelyn appeared.

"Unfortunately, I don't know if there's anything I can tell you that might help," Evelyn told them after she expressed her horror at the news of Brenda's murder. "I didn't have much contact with Brenda. Nurses are assigned to a particular wing of the hospice and answer directly to the Head Nurse of their wing. They never work outside of the same group and I rarely deal with the nurses directly. I step in when there's a problem, but…Brenda never popped up on my radar, so to speak."

Angell nodded while Danny glanced around the garden courtyard Evelyn had ushered them into before allowing conversation to begin.

"Do most of your nurses live close by?" Danny asked, still pondering the six block walk from Brenda's home.

"Some do, I believe," Evelyn said with a nod. "But I'd have to look it up for you. Is it important?"

Danny frowned and shook his head. "Not really."

"Could we talk to the nurses in Brenda's wing?" Angell asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Of course," Evelyn said, leading them across the garden to a covered tile path. "She worked in the East wing, which we call the Gilbert wing after the family that donated the money to build it. The donators' grandfather lived out the remainder—" She stopped herself with a grimace. "I'm sorry. How terribly inappropriate. I tend to babble in stressful situations."

"Don't worry about it," Angell murmured, shaking her head.

Danny eyed the back of the woman's coiffed blond hair before turning back to the landscaping along the path. "Beautiful flowers."

He noticed Angell falter out of the corner of his eye as Evelyn glanced back at him. "Thank you. Another donation actually," she admitted, lifting a hand to her temple.

"The jasmine is beautiful," he added, gesturing to the lattices that created a semi-enclosed walkway next to the building. The jasmine trailed up the bare wood of the lattice, partially hanging into the walkway.

"Oh, yes," Evelyn answered distractedly. "We just had it transplanted around from the back of the complex. We're building a new physical therapy pool out there, but most of the residents love the smell of the jasmine. Here we are."

Danny nodded his head toward the lattice at the end of the row as they followed Evelyn through the open door to the building. The wood was old and splintering.

The nurses didn't have much to say about Brenda's life that Winnie Hughes hadn't already told them. Brenda didn't date much and when she did, she kept the men far away from her home. She sometimes went a year between dates. She was a devoted mother, who adored her daughter and sometimes brought her into work. She was particularly fond of Mr. Edgars in room 411, but he'd passed away several months back.

Danny nodded his head at the last of the nurses as she filed out of the break room. "Thank you for your time."

"Well that was a bust," Angell muttered as they stepped back into the jasmine lined corridor.

"Not exactly," Danny disagreed, stopping to pull a couple of evidence bags and a set of gloves from his pocket.

"What do we know?" Angell asked, rubbing her temple.

"We know that the killer handled dead wood and jasmine just before the murder," Danny said, stuffing some blooms into a pouch. "We know that three DNA samples were found at the scene. One belonging to the mother, another to the daughter and a third, male sample, from an unknown donor."

"We've been assuming all this time that the killer was male," Angell pointed out. "What says that it couldn't have been a woman?"

Danny sealed the evidence bag and stuffed it in his pocket. "The backdoor was basically pulled off its hinges. It was either a man, a very large woman, or a woman with a giant crowbar that she took with her when she left in addition to a third male body."

"Okay, so let's keep assuming it was a man. What proves that the third blood sample couldn't be his?"

Danny paused, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. "Nothing. There's no way to determine how much of the blood is from each of the donors. There was too much mixing to test conclusively. But there was a lot of each, so we can assume the killer was near death when he ran."

"Detectives?"

Turning at the same time, Angell and Danny saw one of the nurses they'd spoken to coming towards them. Folding his arms over his chest, Danny ran his eyes over the small woman, wondering why, with her dark coloring and tiny frame, she didn't remind him of Montana.

"I just thought of something. It might be nothing," the brunette hedged.

"Anything might help," Angell assured her, reaching into her pocket for her notebook.

"A few months ago, I noticed Antonio spending a lot of time around Brenda. He's the landscaper," she explained when they stared at her blankly. "It didn't seem odd at first; I thought maybe they were dating. But a while later, she started avoiding him and when I asked Brenda about it, she said that she didn't date patients."

"The landscaper is a patient?" Angell asked, shaking her head in confusion.

The nurse shrugged. "I don't know what she meant. Except for the psyche ward over in the north wing, all we have are elderly patients waiting to die."

"The psyche ward?"

Danny let Angell handle to conversation, sidling away to gather some splinters from the broken lattice. Sealing that bag, he stepped closer to the next lattice to inspect it, but could see no damage to the wood.

"It was originally meant solely for the elderly suffering from dementia or Alzheimer's, any disease that might make them suddenly violent. But now there are maybe fifteen other patients. I don't know. We don't hear much about what goes on in the other wings."

"Thank you for your help," Angell muttered as the nurse scurried away again after apologizing profusely for not knowing more. "So, whaddya say we talk to Evelyn about this pesky psyche ward."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "I say we just ask for this Antonio right up front."

"Good idea."

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Lindsay felt Thumper's strong muscles moving beneath her in a soothing, fluid rhythm. The wind picked up a bit, stirring the curls off her neck. The tension was slowly easing away as it had always been prone to do when she rode.

He really was a gentle old horse underneath all his bluster. Lindsay wasn't sure why he refused to let anyone but her ride him.

She'd spent the day with yet another lawyer hammering her with questions. She knew they were just doing their jobs, but weren't they afraid of damaging her credibility if they pressed too hard? She'd nearly burst into tears twice during the practice cross-examinations.

She knew what the right words were. Knew that the right response was always to repeat what you knew to be the truth, no matter what the lawyer asked. Never say "I don't know." Nothing looked worse.

Sighing, she ran the reins through her fingers restlessly, making Thumper's ears quirk back for any directions she might want to give. She was content to let him wander, but she knew he wanted to run. Since he was too prickly to let anyone other than her get more than five feet from him when out of his stall, he didn't get to run very often anymore.

She gave him his head, and he took it. Springing into a gallop, Thumper raced across the meadow back towards the paddocks. Lindsay leaned in low, close to his head and watched the world streaking past her, her hair flying behind her. Almost too late, she felt Thumper veer towards the fallen tree trunk and gather his muscles to jump. Bracing at the last moment, they were up and over before she had a chance to think about it.

It amazed her that this still felt so natural. She supposed it always would. You can't shuck off your roots easily, particularly when you have a very loud, very demanding family who refused to let you even contemplate shucking.

Grumbling, she gently pulled on Thumper's reins and heard an answering snort from him. They were both reluctant to go back to the house, but they turned towards the paddocks and trotted in. Lindsay let him cool down then cleaned off both Thumper and his gear before leading him back to his stall and setting him up with fresh oats.

"Night," she called as his head partially disappeared into the bucket. He pointedly ignored her, and she rolled her eyes as she headed towards the ranch house.

The windows were lit up against the dark purple and pink sky of twilight, the house itself rising up like one of the distant mountains. As a girl, Lindsay had seen this house as a haven, a place where she could go and disappear into a noisy family who never judged her. Now it loomed menacingly, loud and full of questions she didn't want to answer.

Stepping inside the enclosed porch, she kicked off her boots and hung her jacket on a peg. When she pushed the door open, the smell of fried chicken and fresh bread drew her towards the kitchen.

"Mom?"

"There you are," Molly said from her place in front of the stove. "You're just in time to help me set the table." Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at her daughter. "Did you want to change first?"

Lindsay shook her head and pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. "Let me just wash up."

Molly quickly pulled the biscuits out of the oven and closed the door. With a practiced hand, she shook the fluffy biscuits out of their pan and into a towel-lined bowl. "Connor's coming for dinner," she said as if it were an afterthought.

Lindsay winced as the hot water stung her palms, raw from the now unfamiliar reins. "Since when is that news? I was surprised he hadn't stopped by before," she admitted, minding her step in the conversation.

"Just mentioning it."

Satisfied she'd removed any visible dirt particles, Lindsay reached over and snagged the clean towel off of Molly's shoulder. "Okay."

Eyeing her mother's back uncomfortably, Lindsay pulled five plates out of the cupboard. "Any other company tonight?"

Molly shook her head and gestured to the table. "No, but they'll be here any minute, so get that table set."

"I'm doing it already." Taking five napkins out of the linen drawer, Lindsay hurried into the dining room.

"You expecting any more late night calls tonight?"

Wincing, Lindsay laid down the last plate and wandered back into the kitchen, trying to keep her expression bland. "Not expecting, no."

"I'm just saying, your father has to get up at four, Lindsay."

"I know, Mother," Lindsay answered calmly, despite the clenching her teeth yearned to do. "I did grow up on a ranch."

Her mother sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you, and it's coming out all wrong."

"I know," Lindsay repeated, concentrating on pulling out the right number of forks and knives.

"Do they really need you there every day?" Molly snapped, stalking into the dining room and slamming the large ceramic bowl of biscuits onto the table. "Don't they realize the mental torture they're putting you through?"

Lindsay felt a surge of something akin to amusement as she watched her mother stalk to and from the dining room, muttering to herself. Following her on one of her trips, Lindsay began to set the silverware down.

"We still need glasses," she mentioned when she noticed her mother had stopped in the doorway. When Molly didn't move, Lindsay looked up to find her mother's eyes on her.

"What?" Lindsay asked after failing to decipher Molly's guarded expression.

"What happens after this?"

Straightening, Lindsay leaned her arm on the back of a chair and tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"After the trial. What happens then?"

Lindsay furrowed her brow. "Mom, you know I'm going back to New York."

Sighing, Molly disappeared around the corner, and Lindsay heard the clinking of glasses. "Get the sweet tea, would you?"

Lindsay hesitantly came into the kitchen and glanced at her mother balancing glasses on the serving tray. Molly gestured to the fridge. "Top shelf."

Opening the door, Lindsay took out the pitcher of tea and stared down at it for a moment. "You're going to let all the cold air out, Lindsay," she heard her mother call from the dining room.

Letting the door swing shut, she carried the pitcher out to the table. The noise of the old truck coming up the dirt lane hastened her into speaking. "What did you mean?"

Her mother sighed and began pouring tea into the glasses. "For ten years, you've let this…vendetta run your life. What happens when you've finally gotten what you want? He's behind bars, electrocuted, drawn and quartered, whatever, and you're free to live the rest of your life in peace. Debt paid. What then?"

Lindsay stared at her mother for a minute, unable to find any words. Her face softening, Molly reached out to touch Lindsay's arm then stopped halfway with a sigh. "Sweetheart, you've based your entire life around this. You even chose your career because of it. After this is over, can you look at any of it the same way? Will you still want to be faced with this every day?"

Lindsay felt her inner self start to shrink away from her mother's honest words, but merely let herself shrug. "I—"

The side door off the kitchen suddenly banged open. "Molly?" Gordon called, the noise of Brad and Connor right behind him.

"In the dining room with Lindsay," she called back calmly and turned back to filling the glasses as if the conversation had never happened, let alone been cut off in the middle. Lindsay left Molly's side, drifting to the opposite side of the room and bracing herself by clinging to the back of a chair.

The three tall men that filed through the doorway each dropped a kiss on Molly's cheek as they passed, bringing with them the scent of diesel engines, fresh dirt, and horses. Her father nodded to her with a slight smile as he walked in the direction of the washroom and her brother, Brad, gave her a playful push as he followed their father out.

Connor stayed across the room, almost as if the table was meant to be a barrier between them. He smiled the same wide, crooked smile he'd had ever since she could remember and turned his hat in his hands. "Hey, Lindsay."

"Hi, Connor," she answered, smiling back and trying to loosen her grip on the chair.

The water was running a few rooms away and the sound of muted conversation drifted in from the downstairs bathroom. Connor ran a hand through his thick black hair. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to come out and see you before tonight. The Murrays had a bit of a fire a couple of weeks ago, and I've been helping them raise a new barn."

A small, but genuine smile lit her face. "I heard in town that Oscar Murray finally got married."

"If I hadn't been at the damn thing, I might not have believed it," Connor said wryly.

Lindsay laughed. "How much did you lose on that one?"

Obviously embarrassed, Connor pretended to glare at her. "How do you know about that bet?"

"Mouse knows everything, remember?" her brother's voice reminded his best friend.

Glancing over her shoulder, Lindsay saw Brad coming back through the doorway, freshly washed, jacket and hat gone. He was rolling the sleeves up his forearms, and she was suddenly struck once again by how very much a _man_ he was. Somehow while she'd been gone, her mind had transformed him back into a twelve year old with spindly arms who always tried to get her to jump off the highest rock.

"Don't call me that," she grumbled.

Brad ignored her and called out to their mother. "Do you need any help, Mom?"

"No, thanks. The chicken's just coming out. Connor, go wash up, you silly boy. Lindsay'll still be here when you come out."

Connor laughed easily as Molly shooed him away with a towel, but Lindsay could feel her cheeks burning. She knew she must have looked ridiculous even before her brother opened his mouth.

"Jeez, who knew anyone could turn that color purple? What would you say that is, Mom, plum?" His good-natured grin disarmed his words, but Lindsay glared at him anyway, which just made him chuckle more.

"Leave your sister alone," their father said, coming into the room and immediately sitting in his place at the head of the table.

Lindsay watched her father roll his sleeves up his forearms just like Brad had and she dropped into the chair adjacent to his across from Connor and Brad. Gordon glanced at her when she sat, and she smiled, but his eyes slid away to focus across the room.

Biting the inside of her lip, she glanced at her plate while her mother brought the platter of chicken to the table. When she looked up, Connor was coming into the room and Brad was shaking his head incredulously at their father, who didn't seem to notice.

Gordon said Grace, they all began dishing up, and it was exactly as Lindsay remembered nearly every dinner in her home being. Noisy, full of laughter and delicious. But Shelby was gone, and her father would barely look at her.

"So tell me about New York," Connor said, reaching for another roll.

Lindsay's eyes shot to her father, but he was calmly cutting a green bean with his fork. Swallowing her mouthful, she turned to Brad and he just shrugged, glancing hesitantly back towards their father.

"It's noisy," she said, her eyes straying to her mother this time, who merely looked on with an interested expression.

"You know, I kinda figured that part," Connor teased, breaking his roll in half. His eyes never left her face as he buttered the roll.

She shrugged uncomfortably and silence settled over the table. Finally, Molly jumped in with a new topic and the conversation rolled along without focus on Lindsay. While everyone was preoccupied and eyes were finally off her for the first time in weeks, Lindsay found she could even eat a few bites of chicken.

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Danny watched the ME zip up the body bag, shaking his head. It might not have been the weirdest case he'd ever worked on, but it was one of the more disturbing ones.

After talking to Evelyn again, they'd learned that Antonio, the landscaper, suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. His case wasn't extreme and the medication kept the illness under control, allowing him to operate on an acceptable social level. His doctors told Danny that this the reason they let him basically roam free among the complex, acting as a groundskeeper.

A couple of months ago, out of the blue, he told his doctors he wanted to move out of the complex and into his own apartment. When asked why, he said he'd met someone he wanted to share his life with. The doctors explained that Antonio wasn't well enough to live outside the rigid structure of the complex, and he'd seemed disappointed but accepting.

Disappointed but accepting, the doctors deemed him.

They were fucking doctors. They were supposed to notice things like a patient suddenly going off his meds and disappearing for hours at a time. But Antonio had been given so much freedom he'd started sneaking off the grounds without ever being missed.

Apparently, Brenda Mueller hadn't known he was a patient when they struck up a conversation over the rose bushes he'd been trimming. And he certainly never mentioned it when they began having picnic lunches together once or twice a week. But when she found out, she cut the relationship off, telling Antonio that she could lose her job.

After seeing the stitches up and down Antonio's arms, Danny had asked for a DNA sample from Evelyn, who couldn't explain how Antonio had cut himself, just that he'd shown up in his room bleeding to death a few days before. Matching Antonio's DNA to the third donor in the kitchen had gotten the detectives practically an open warrant.

When Danny and Angell interrogated Antonio the day before, he'd willingly told them the whole story. He told them that he'd gone to her house to talk to Brenda. To beg her to reconsider ending their relationship. When she wouldn't let him in, he yanked the door off the hinges. So he could get her to listen, he insisted.

She'd been in the middle of making breakfast for her daughter and when medicine-free Antonio saw the knife in her hands, his mind turned her and the daughter she tried to protect into an immediate threat.

They'd arrested him on the spot and sent him to lock up. Somehow, twelve hours later, he'd managed to hang himself and now they had nothing left to do but fill out the paperwork.

Danny turned and walked out of the jail cell, Angell following closely behind. "This isn't one of the ones you forget in time, is it?" she muttered tiredly.

As they reached the doors to the bullpen, Danny slowed so she could step up beside him. "No. I don't think it is."

She nodded and pushed through the door. "See ya, Messer."

"Later."

He watched her walk away through the swinging door, a slight frown on his face. He'd never really apologized, but she didn't seem too keen on receiving an explanation. Besides, now really wasn't the time. Sighing, he turned to head back to the elevators, his desk, and way too much paperwork.

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When the phone vibrated on Danny's belt, he fumbled it out of its holster with one hand and continued writing with the other. Without looking at the screen—talking to anyone was better than paperwork—he hit send and tossed down his pen.

"Messer," he barked.

"Did you know that the Giants' first New York game was—"

"October 18, 1925 against the Yellow Jackets."

"Which Super Bowls have they won?" she asked, sounding a little piqued.

"Eleven and fifteen," he answered smoothly. "The country air keeping you out of trouble?"

"Hardly," Lindsay countered. He sensed a bit of bitterness behind the answer, but he didn't know how to ask without sounding nosy. "What about you? You following Mac's rules all right?"

"When haven't I? You implying something here?" He tried to sound indignant, but hearing her chuckle on the other end of the line made his sentence end in a laugh. "What's up, Montana?" he asked when they finally calmed down.

"Just calling to see how you were doing. You sounded a bit…strange last time we talked."

His stomach twisted until he realized she meant the case had thrown him. "Oh, yeah, I guess. Sorry about that." He smiled a little at the thought of her worrying about him.

She ignored his apology. "Did everything clear up in the end?"

Hearing a knock on his door, he looked up to find Angell standing on the other side of the glass holding a folder. "Yeah, it's all over. Hey, I gotta go. Call you later?"

"Uh, sure."

Too distracted to notice her surprise, Danny mumbled "Bye" and hung up as Angell pulled open the door.

She held out the folder with a shrug. "Thought you might want these for your report."

"Thanks, Angell," he said, flipping it open and scanning the contents of her paperwork.

"Jennifer."

He glanced up. "What?"

She shifted a shoulder casually. "It's weird hearing people call me Angell. That's my father. I'm Jennifer."

"Okay," he murmured as she tossed him a wave and strode down the hall. It wasn't quite a sashay, but she knew what she was doing. "Oh, boy."

He knew he should have explained everything to her.

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Tossing his keys on the hall table, Danny unwound his scarf from his neck and shrugged off his jacket. He'd left a desk full of paperwork behind, but Mac had warned him not to put in too much overtime while the lab was short staffed. Apparently, Mac was trying to keep Lindsay's sudden leave of absence off the radar of the powers that be.

Danny glanced at his watch, relieved to see it was only nine in Montana. He headed towards the kitchen as he pulled out his cell and hit Lindsay's speed dial. The phone rang in his ear as he stared at the contents of his refrigerator.

"Hey," Lindsay's voice said softly in his ear.

"Hey. Sorry about having to hang up on you." He could hear other voices in the background, but she seemed to be moving away from them.

"Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have called while you were at work."

Danny snorted. "You can interrupt my paperwork any time. Anything is better than filling that stuff out." He winced at the way it came out and shut the door to the fridge.

"Thanks. I think." Her voice was amused, so he didn't apologize for his poor choice of words. "I was on a break from the interrogation, so—"

"Interrogation?" Danny asked tightly, worry making his body tense. "What interrogation?"

Lindsay paused. "Oh. Sorry. That's just what I call it. It's really just the lawyers questioning me. As practice for the stand." She sighed when Danny remained silent, his confusion obvious even over the distance.

"It's…the reason I'm here," she explained hesitantly. "I have to testify."

"An old case?" he asked, knowing even as he did that wasn't the answer.

"Not exactly."

Her voice was still hesitant and he waited for her to continue, but all he could hear over the line was her drawing breath as if to speak then letting it out again. "It's all right, Montana. You don't have to tell me," he said gently.

"Thanks," she murmured, sounding relieved.

He smiled bitterly, but managed to keep it out of his tone. "So."

"So."

"When you get back, we'll have to get you some real pizza," he said casually, as if her admission had never happened.

"What?" She sounded so confused that he had to smile a little. "You do realize we have pizza here, right? This is Montana, not the North Pole."

"You trying to tell me you actually like that pizza? That it actually compares to genuine New York pizza?"

She was silent for a moment then sighed. "No. It's terrible."

He couldn't help but laugh at the dejected note in her voice. Remembering his conversation with Flack and Hawkes just days before, he had to ask. "Hey, have you ever had a cannoli?"

"A what?"

He let out a dramatic breath. "What are we going to do with you, Montana?"


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. Sorry this is kinda short, guys. I'll post another chapter a little later today.

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The trial would start in the morning.

The knowledge made Lindsay feel as if Thumper had kicked her in the chest as she lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness of her room. Light filtered in through the gauzy curtains she'd picked out when she was fifteen, making patterns dance across her ceiling as the open window made the curtains drift in the breeze.

They looked almost threatening, really, she decided as she leaned her head to one side. Appearing and disappearing at whim. Maybe it was the dark fighting the light.

Maybe she needed to stop drinking so much coffee.

Rubbing her eyes with a sigh, Lindsay wished she could just fall asleep. The trial started in nine hours, which meant she had to be up and out the door in six. At this rate, she wouldn't even fall asleep until then.

She hadn't spoken to Danny in several days, not since their silly pizza discussion. They'd decided that she needed to do a tour of the best pizzerias in the city, just to acquaint her taste buds with the 'good stuff,' as Danny called it. He insisted that the best places to go were the restaurants no one but the regulars knew about. The holes in the wall that looked, at first glance he assured her, like they could be fronts.

As the impending trial began to hang over her head, she'd found herself unable to call him. She was certain she wouldn't be able to shake the fear from her tone and she knew he'd just worry. Her family was already watching her all the time. She knew they were all walking on eggshells around her, and she wouldn't be able to stand it if she heard the same carefulness in Danny's voice.

Rolling over, she glanced at her cell. He'd called her, but she'd ignored him. She hadn't done something so insensitive since she'd stood him up. After that, she'd told herself she would never do something so inconsiderate again. And this just served to highlight the fact that Danny wasn't meant for her. He deserved better than that.

Frustration bubbled up inside her. He deserved better than all of this crap. He deserved better than her.

She buried her face in her pillow and willed sleep to come rescue her from her thoughts. But her demons were too loud for rest, and the sky was turning pinkish grey before her eyes fell shut.

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He really hadn't expected to be called into Mac's office as soon as he set foot off the elevator that morning, but he just knit his brow and walked over to the glass door. Stella was seated in the chair across from his desk, which made Danny swallow nervously, and his confusion only increased when Mac waved at him to come in. He stepped inside and made sure the door closed behind him, then turned to face his bosses.

"Take a seat," Mac said, motioning to his couch.

Danny glanced at Stella, who smiled a little, but it wasn't a happy smile. The knot that had been sitting in the vicinity of his heart the last few days dropped like lead into his stomach.

"What's up, Mac?" Danny asked, settling himself on the edge of the cushion.

"You tell me."

Feeling the lines in his forehead deepen, Danny's eyes slid to Stella's concerned face then back to Mac's neutral one. He licked his lips. "Whaddya mean?"

Stella looked at Mac, who folded his hands together on his desk. "I mean you've been acting a bit strange for the last couple of weeks."

"Yeah?" Danny leaned back on the couch, trying to bide his time until he could figure out what Mac was really asking him.

"A bit preoccupied maybe?"

Stella had a good poker face, he'd give her that much. But the worry was obvious in her eyes and that look that he'd been avoiding for so long was lurking just beneath the surface. Knowing the jig was up, he scrubbed his hands roughly over his face.

"I've been doing my job. I haven't broken any rules. What're you asking me, Mac?" He didn't sound accusatory or defensive, just tired, which made him want to hang his head. But he never could seem to stiffen his spine around Mac.

"Is this about Lindsay?"

Danny winced at the blunt nature of Mac's question, but found himself glancing up with a half smile plastered over his face. He sounded almost amused when he answered. "Course."

Mac nodded calmly while Stella's brow creased uncertainly. "What exactly seems to be the problem?"

Danny looked nervously at Stella. Mac glanced at her, too, then cleared his throat. "Stella, could you give us a minute?"

"Sure," she chirped with a false brightness. On her way out the door, she gave Danny a reassuring smile.

Mac waited until she'd exited before speaking again. "I asked her to be here because I thought she might make you more comfortable," he explained. After a moment, the corner of his mouth kicked up. "Okay, that's not true. She's a lot better at this sort of thing than I am."

Danny just looked at him with a frozen expression until Mac shifted uncomfortably. "What's going on with you, Danny?"

He opened his mouth to brush off the concern in Mac's voice, only to snap it shut again. Mac understood everything, right? "I feel like I'm losing my mind," he said finally.

Mac was obviously trying to keep his surprise off his face. "Why's that?"

"Because," Danny said, his voice quiet but rough. "She's over there going through God-knows-what, and she won't even tell me. Which is fine," he insisted, holding his hands out as if to reassure Mac. "If she doesn't feel comfortably telling me, that's fine. But she stopped calling a few days ago, and I can't get her to return my messages."

"You've been in touch with her?"

Nodding, Danny stared out the glass watching the lab techs milling around. "Something's wrong, but I can't help. I just…I want to help her and I don't know how."

"You want to help her," Mac repeated, his expression neutral.

"Yeah," Danny muttered, running a hand over his hair.

"You're useless to me—" Mac told him. Danny's head jerked up in surprise, the knot in his stomach giving way to make room for the panic. The small smile on Mac's face seemed highly inappropriate. "—like this. I can only give you a few days, we're already under staffed, but take them."

Danny frowned. "Mac, I don't—" He stopped and licked his lips, his mind racing. "You mean, go to Montana?"

Blinking in surprise, Mac braced his hands on his desk. "Go to Montana?" he repeated blankly.

"I can't just pick up and…She doesn't want me there," Danny said finally, looking into the distance over Mac's shoulder.

"Then don't go." Mac shrugged. "But do something because you're obviously driving yourself insane here. Your time off starts as of now. Go home."

"Yeah," Danny muttered again, still staring beyond Mac. Then he blinked and came back to the room, standing from the couch. "Thanks, Mac. I'm sorry I haven't been up to snuff," he said stoically.

Mac shook his head. "That wasn't the point, Danny. You're doing fine."

"Thanks."

Then he was bursting out of the office and jogging down the steps. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Detouring to the locker room, he shouldered the bag he'd put away fifteen minutes earlier and headed back to the elevator. He could feel lab techs' eyes on him, but he didn't care.

As the elevator descended, he crossed his arms over his chest and contemplated the floor. Mac had basically ordered him to deal with the thing hanging over his head. But he couldn't do that if she wouldn't return his phone calls.

When the elevator doors slid open, he squeezed between the people trying to get in the car and hurried out of the building. A few of the officers in the lobby had been there when he stepped inside, and they all stopped talking to watch him leave. He noticed Angell and Flack pushing through a set of swinging doors, discussing something that had Flack smirking and Angell rolling her eyes in disgust.

When they noticed him, they both stopped and Flack looked at Danny questioningly. He just tensely nodded to them before he stepped outside. It was only eight, but New York was already bustling with people. He bypassed the subway and zipped up his jacket. He needed to think and jerking around with a whole bunch of other people was not the way to do it.

Sniffing in cold air, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He strode down the sidewalk, dodging people, with no real destination in mind. He knew that she didn't want him to interfere. She'd asked for space, and he'd given it to her.

Remembering her voice when she'd told him about the trial, he worried that he'd given her too much space. Then he reminded himself that she'd only told him as much as she had because he hadn't pushed her. She'd told him in her own time, when she felt comfortable enough to do so. He had to respect the fact that she felt she needed to work through this—whatever this was—alone.

Even if he lost his mind in the interim.

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mel60: Thanks so much for reviewing again! I'm glad the case turned out all right, I was a little worried about it; I've never really written a mystery before. And, by the way, you couldn't wear out your welcome. Please review again! Your reviews make my day.

serenity2bliss: I'm glad you're liking the story. There won't be much more Angell stuff in this story, but plenty in the sequel, which I should start posting as soon as this one is all up. Thanks for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

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Lindsay huddled in front of the toilet, wondering if her stomach was actually going to empty itself or if it just wanted to kill her with nausea. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her shins and rested her forehead on her knees.

She'd spent the entire four hours of day one of the trial waiting in the witness room across the hall so she wouldn't have to look at him. She wasn't sure why they'd made her come. She could have told them that they wouldn't get to her testimony today. They had to go through all the preliminaries, the court version of small talk, before getting to the actual hearing. Tomorrow was the day to fear.

Nausea had her gripping the edge of the toilet until she finally remembered that she hadn't been able to eat anything all day. She had nothing to throw up but bile.

Downstairs, she heard her mother's soft murmur and her father's baritone answer. On a little sob, she rested her cheek against her knees. She'd thought if she went away and he wouldn't have to see her all the time, he'd eventually get over it. But she was wrong; her father was very much still mad at her.

No, mad wasn't the right word. He was disappointed in her. Which, if she were honest with herself, was worse than his being angry had been.

Her brother and Connor hadn't come back to the house for supper. She supposed her mother had told them not to, that Lindsay would need a quiet evening after today, but Lindsay wished her mother hadn't sent them packing. Their boisterous presence might have served as a distraction from everything else rolling around in her mind.

Convinced that her stomach wasn't going to explode, Lindsay gripped the marble edge of the sink and pulled herself to her feet. The room wobbled for a moment, then righted and she sighed with relief. A glance in the mirror confirmed her pale complexion and the wild look in her eyes. Turning the faucet, she splashed cold water all over her face, her teeth chattering at the sudden temperature change.

Lindsay patted herself dry, feeling slightly better, and carefully hung the towel up before opening the door. Once in the hall, she could hear her parents more clearly.

"Gordon, you have to let it go."

"All I said was that Connor's raising the price on Houston's stud fees." Her father's voice was calm, but the edge to his words made Lindsay's eyes fall shut.

"Connor this. Connor that. Get over it, Gordon Theodore Monroe."

Lindsay jerked away from where she'd been leaning against the wall. She'd never heard her mother speak with such disdain towards her father. Raising a shaking hand, she tried to tamp down on the guilt rising up in her. She'd done this.

"Molly." Their voices were getting quieter as they moved deeper into the house, probably towards the kitchen. Lindsay sank down onto the top step of the stairs, feeling like a child again as she leaned against the wooden railing and eavesdropped on her parents.

"Molly," he said again, his tone still calm. "If she hadn't—"

"Well, she did. They did, if you can't remember that far back. Connor was as much a part of that decision as she was, and he's welcomed back with open arms every damn night."

Tears were welling behind Lindsay's eyes. So she'd been right. Her father was still mad at her.

"Yet your own daughter—" Molly's voice rose and cut off abruptly. Then all Lindsay could hear was furious whispering and the sound of footsteps stomping around the kitchen.

Sighing, she rested her hot cheek against the coolness of the wood and willed the tears away. She was a grown woman. She couldn't cry just because her father didn't approve of her life. It was her life.

The sudden knocking on the front door made Lindsay jump about a mile. She placed her hand over her racing heart and tried to get her breathing back to normal as she stared straight down the stairs in front of her to the large wooden door. When her father's clomping footsteps headed towards the front hall—and, indirectly, her hiding place—she scrambled to her feet and scurried to her room as quietly as possible.

Easing the door shut, she heard her father's voice and then another, but the murmurs were indistinct and she tried to shut her ears. The murmuring went on for several minutes until the door shut behind the visitor and the voices moved towards the living room.

Climbing into her window seat and huddling against the wall, Lindsay wondered vaguely if the lawyer was back with more of the same questions. A last minute brush up so that the answers burned into her brain wouldn't sound too practiced on the stand the next morning. When she heard her father call into the kitchen for her mother, she frowned and raised her head.

She strained to hear, but nothing was coming from the living room anymore and she bit her lip. This was strange.

A soft knock came at her door. "Mom?" she called, swinging her legs down so her back was against the window.

The door opened and her mother stuck her head around the doorjamb. She looked flustered. "Lindsay…there's…there's someone here to see you."

"Is it Greg?" Lindsay asked, starting to worry at the confusion on her mother's face.

"No. No, it's…well…you'd better come see." And then she was gone.

Lindsay stayed where she was until she heard her mother's soft footsteps heading back down the stairs. Pushing herself up, she tucked her hair behind her ears and absently smoothed her shirt down before walking slowly from the room.

She nervously bit at her lips, already raw from earlier that day, as she padded down the stairs and stepped into the living room. Then she froze.

Danny turned from facing her father and pulled his hands out of his pockets. Her parents were standing on either side of the room, giving Danny a lot of space, as if unsure what to do with the stranger in the house. All three of them looked to her for action, and all she could do was stare.

He'd taken off his jacket and scarf, which she could see tossed over a chair out of the corner of her eye. Finally, he spoke. "Hey, Montana."

There was a couch and a coffee table in between them, but somehow Lindsay was around them and in his arms before anyone could blink. She didn't realize she was shaking until his arms went around her and she felt how solid and stable he was.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to whisper, her face buried securely in his neck.

She felt him shrug a little. "You didn't call. I was worried."

The answer surprised her into a little laugh. Sniffling quietly, she pulled back, unable to look at him as her arms fell away. She felt him smooth strands of hair from her face, and he ducked so she had to meet his eyes. "You okay?" he asked seriously.

Seeing his very real concern, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay," she murmured. Suddenly remember that her parents were gaping at her, she turned to find them staring. "Um, Mom, Dad, this is Danny Messer. We work together in New York," she tacked on after a pause, lacking a better way to define their relationship.

Her mother recovered first and nodded. "Yes, he introduced himself a few minutes ago. It's nice to meet you, Danny. Would you—" she paused. "Would you like some tea? Or coffee?"

"That would be great, Mrs. Monroe," he said, nodding his head politely.

Her voice was faint, but she smiled approvingly at him. "Call me Molly. Everybody else does."

Danny flashed her his trademark grin. "All right, Molly."

Lindsay was amused to see her mother get a little more flustered. Danny's charm really was potent. Her father, on the other hand, was looking a little bit like a brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his face blank. When he opened his mouth, though, her mother cut him off.

"Gordon, could you help me in the kitchen?"

"Mom," Lindsay cut in, holding up her hand. "You guys go on to bed. I'll finish up the dishes and make the tea."

Molly smiled affectionately at her. "Thank you, sweetheart. Danny," she said, turning her warm gaze back to him. "Did you have a chance to make a reservation at the hotel?"

Danny shook his head. "I flew out in a hurry. I'll just drive over there later and—" he stopped when both Lindsay and her mother bit their lips. "What?"

"Mr. Edwards doesn't exactly stay late in the office," Lindsay explained, glancing at the clock behind them. "In fact, he's probably already gone."

Danny blinked at her. "You're kidding, right?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Welcome to Bozeman."

Molly fidgeted nervously and glanced at Gordon who just shook his head tiredly. "I'll get the guest room ready."

"Molly," Gordon murmured. "Maybe we should send him to Brad's."

"He's already in bed by now," she argued quietly. "He's heading out to the north pasture in the morning, remember?"

Lindsay winced as her parents glanced at her with that worried look, but couldn't bring herself to explain the situation. When her mother saw Danny's shuttered expression, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Danny. It's not that we don't want you to stay here."

"It's all right, I understand," he said politely.

"No, you don't," she said, shaking her head. "Lindsay has been having nightmares and—"

"Mom," Lindsay cut her off quickly, her arms wrapping around her middle as Danny's gaze swung to her. "It's all right. I'll just take a sleeping pill."

Gordon walked from the room without another word and Molly nodded. "I'll go put fresh sheets on the bed. Sleep well, Danny. It's wonderful to have you."

"Good night," he called after them.

Silence fell upon the room and Lindsay found she still couldn't look at him. "Lindsay," he murmured, gently touching her arm.

She smiled tightly and glanced somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. "Tea?" she asked, heading across the front entry and through the dining room towards the kitchen.

He followed at a slower pace and by the time he reached the doorway at the other end of the dining room, she was already filling the kettle at the sink. He leaned against the jamb, watching her as she set the kettle on the stove and lit the range. Then she bustled across the room to a set of cabinets and opened them to pull out two mugs.

"Need some help?" he asked.

"No, I've got it. Thanks," she added with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder. He was pretty sure she didn't look directly at him, though, and the idea made him uncomfortable.

"You been having bad dreams?"

He saw her falter as she disappeared around the corner of another doorway. She didn't answer, and he moved across the kitchen to find her in another small room lined with shelves, all of which were stuffed with dry foods, jars of fruit and vegetables, sacks of potatoes, onions, sugar. He blinked in surprise as he watched her stretch to bring down a box.

Pulling out two teabags, she turned to find him blocking the doorway. She caught her breath quietly, and he frowned as he stepped to the side. Smiling tremulously, she brushed past him and returned to the mugs.

"Did they start when you got out here? Or did they start back in New York?"

He watched her profile as she bit her lip and shook her head. "Came back."

"What?"

Her eyes were still focused on the teabags as she wrapped their strings around the handles of the mugs. "I've been having them for a long time. They came back in New York."

Nodding, Danny tucked his fingers in the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the wall. Turning towards him, she crossed her arms over her chest and rested one hip against the counter. They waited in silence as the sound of the steam moving in the kettle got louder.

"Does Mac know you're here?" she asked quietly, her eyes flicking up at his face for a moment.

Danny smirked a little. "He ordered me to take a few days off, but he's not aware I'm in Montana, no."

She smiled slightly then frowned. "Why did he tell you to take a few days off? Are you okay?"

Chuckling a little, Danny shrugged. "Apparently, I've been a little distracted lately."

Finally meeting his eyes, her brow furrowed. "Why?"

His smirk softened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I only had paperwork lined up for the next few days anyway."

Getting his meaning, Lindsay felt the blush rise in her cheeks and looked away. The kettle started to whistle and Lindsay turned off the heat. She glanced at him as she wrapped a towel around the handle of the kettle and poured the steaming water into their mugs.

"So, you got a few days off and you came here," she said incredulously. She started to hand him a mug, then stopped and blinked. "How do you take your tea?"

He shrugged. "No idea. Don't usually drink it."

The laugh seemed to surprise her because she stopped more quickly than would have been natural, but he was happy to hear it. She looked tired, and thin, almost gaunt really. She'd always been skinny, but now she was barely there. Deep shadows circled under her eyes, too, but those had been building even before she left so they weren't much of a surprise.

"It's just chamomile," she told him as she finally passed him the mug.

With that, she poured out the rest of the water from the kettle, picked up her own mug and began walking back towards the living room. He watched her, cradling his first homemade mug of tea, and was struck by the foreign quality of it all. He felt out of place, like a kid who didn't know which fork to use.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he'd apparently been right on the first try; life in Montana was much different than New York.

Lindsay curled up on one end of the couch with her mug, her legs tucked neatly under her. He leaned into the opposite corner, eyeing the tea in his mug distrustfully. She smiled a bit as he blew on it and took a careful sip.

Hiding her smile behind her mug, she took a sip of her tea and watched as he tried it again. "Sticking to coffee?" she asked.

"Maybe," he agreed with a chuckle.

She stirred in her seat. "I'll get you something else."

"Don't worry about it," he said, standing before she could and heading back to the kitchen. She could see him through the various doorways as he poured the tea down the sink and moved to throw away the teabag.

Lindsay stared at his back, watching as he moved with thoughtless grace around her mother's kitchen. When he finished washing his mug, he quickly dried it and put it away. Then he was walking back towards her and she felt something well up inside her.

Gratitude. Pure, unadulterated gratitude for having this man in her life. Despite everything she'd put him through, he flew across the country because he thought she needed his support.

And suddenly, in the face of his obvious care and borderline ridiculous tenacity, she couldn't fathom not trusting him with everything. It was suddenly—painfully—obvious that he could handle whatever she could dish out.

He licked his lips as he tiredly dropped down on the other end of the couch. She watched him, a small smile on her face, as he sank back into the corner. Raising a hand, he pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes exhaustedly.

When his hand dropped again and his head raised, his gaze caught hers. He blinked at the soft smile on her face and stared right back at her, unsure how to react to this unprecedented behavior. As the smile slid from her face, his brows came together.

"I was eighteen."

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but his entire body froze.

"We were all eighteen, Except for Katie," she amended, finally dropping her eyes from his. "Her birthday wasn't until August. But we were all about to graduate.

"Shelby and I basically grew up in each other's houses. Her family owns the next farm down the road to the south, but she spent most of her time here. She and her mother didn't get along very well," she added as a whispered after-thought.

"We were exact opposites. Always had been. I was born in winter; she was born in spring. I was short and brown all over; she was tall, blonde, green eyed and pale. I was a bookworm and kind of quiet; she hated reading and sassed anyone that walked by. But she was my best friend."

Lindsay's eyes closed as she said this last part. Taking a gulp of tea, she continued before he could speak. "In junior high, kids started being bussed in from way out in the sticks, and we all stayed together through high school. That's when Shelby and I met Toni. Shelby made some other friends on the cheerleading squad that we all ended up hanging out with, but I never really got close with any of the others except Toni. Shel had tried to get us to try out with her, but I told her that I'd rather have my eyes dug out with spoons."

Danny's snort of laughter made her glance up with a wan smile. "I joined the science club instead.

"Toni was obsessed with art. She could tell you the most obscure facts about artists," Lindsay said. "Like…she was the one that told me that Winslow Homer was banned from museums for trying to touch up his paintings."

Danny smiled a little, but was watching her carefully. She took a deep breath and plowed on. "Sorry. I've never tried to tell anyone about this before. I don't know how to tell it without starting at the beginning."

He shook his head. "Just keep talking," he said gently.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she breathed in through her nose and held the air in her lungs for a moment. "Shelby was the beauty queen at our school, of the whole state, actually. Her mom started making her enter pageants when she was five. She hated it, which is probably why she spent so much time here. That and she had a crush on my brother," Lindsay added, the corner of her mouth turning up a bit.

"Toni was the resident artist. I was the brain. We were a pretty tight group. People used to call us the three musketeers. Kids don't have much of an imagination I guess," Lindsay joked weakly. She stopped for a moment, remembering, then shook her head to regain her train of thought.

"We were all about to graduate. Shelby didn't have any plans, yet. She didn't want to go to college, but she was threatening to live on my dorm room floor. Toni got accepted to an art school in California. I was heading off to Princeton. At least, I was supposed to be," she murmured, staring down into her mug.

"About a week before graduation, Shelby decided that we needed one last high school hurrah. Translation, she wanted to get wasted out by the old barn."

Glancing at him, she explained, "It was the original barn that the town raised way back in, like, 1880. It's practically useless now, one wall's almost completely gone, and we just keep it around for historical value. High school kids go there to drink, blast music, and hang out in their trucks. I was always our designated driver," she added in a wry tone.

He chuckled, as if he couldn't help it and she glanced up. His eyes had softened with what looked like affection and she dropped her gaze again, sure she'd cry if he kept looking at her like that. Clearing her throat, she tucked her hair behind her ear and forced herself to continue. The conversation was only going to get harder.

"So, the Friday before finals, we planned to head out to the barn after dinner. Toni, Shelby and our friends Katie and Gwen were going to spend the night at my house that night, so we had to wait for the other three to be done with cheerleading practice. I can't remember what I did for that last hour," Lindsay murmured. "I know Toni and I must have been together, but I can't for the life of me remember anything about it.

"We went to the gym and Shelby was waiting with Katie, but Gwen had taken off for work. She was a waitress at Mel's, this little diner in the middle of town. We went there all the time; it was kind of like our hang out, I guess."

Her fingers were untying the tassels on her mother's throw blanket, but she didn't notice. "He must have followed us inside, maybe he'd been following us since we left school, I have no idea. We just weren't paying attention. Shelby was doing an impression of Mr. Leister, our chemistry teacher, to annoy me. She always did that," Lindsay whispered, her eyes going wide and blank.

"We were the only customers that afternoon. The others were laughing too loud, and I was too busy being sulky to notice him walking towards the booth. Toni and I went up to the counter to get the milkshakes from Gwen. The other waitress had gone to the bathroom or something; I don't know where she was. Behind me, I heard Shelby laugh and ask 'What's wrong?' That's when the gun went off the first time…before I'd turned around."

Lindsay felt Danny's body jerk involuntarily and her body took on a fine trembling. "He didn't even pause before he turned the gun on Katie. Toni and Gwen were screaming, but I couldn't make a noise. I was completely frozen. I remember Toni grabbing my arm and pulling me after her, telling me to run, but we weren't fast enough. I don't know if he shot Gwen or Toni first. I was hit in the stomach and shoulder as we fell, so I know he got Toni before me. She pulled me down with her.

"I was awake for a long time—it felt like forever—it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, though. I think the other girls were, too, but I only saw Toni. She was right next to me. I remember hearing whimpering, then weaker screams as he pulled out a knife. I was told later that he gutted Katie, Gwen and Shelby. Gutted them like they were animals. While I was lying there, I watched Toni's eyes go flat, her body get still. I remember thinking that she looked smaller somehow.

"That's the last thing I remember about that day. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital a week later and all my friends were dead."

She'd run out of words. The silence dragged on, and she couldn't bring herself to look at or speak to him. Finally, he ran a hand over his face.

"Lindsay," he said, his voice a rough murmur. "I am so sorry."

The pity she heard made her back straighten. She didn't need his pity. "There's more." He froze again, probably because her voice was so hard this time.

"Their mothers came to see me. All of them. Each one wanted to know what happened. Why it happened. Gwen's mom asked me how I'd survived. I told her I didn't know. Then she asked me what I'd done that Gwen hadn't. Why did I deserve to live? I didn't have an answer. Still don't.

"After awhile, I convinced myself that I'd survived so that the bastard who did it would pay for what he'd done. But that didn't work out. I slept for a week after surgery." She laughed bitterly. "By the time they got a description of him from me, he was long gone."

"Who was he?" Danny asked.

"I have no idea. I'd seen him around town maybe a couple of weeks before working on a new building, but that was it. He was a drifter that happened to pass through Bozeman on his way somewhere else, I guess."

"So this is why you became a CSI," Danny surmised. Lindsay nodded. "And you came to New York to get away."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I just wanted to. Even when I was a kid, I wanted to live somewhere else. See what it was like to live a different life. If it hadn't been New York, it would have been San Francisco or Los Angeles. Seattle maybe."

She swallowed. "I really thought I'd put the past behind me before I left. I thought I'd accepted the fact that I was never going to find him, never see him pay. And for a while, I was fine. I loved New York. Everything was new and different, always exciting. The nightmares even stopped.

"But then little things started creeping up on me. The kids Darius murdered messed with my head a bit, but I got over it. Sarah Butler made me pause. Then the Hollys case happened and that gun was in my face and I was eighteen again. I started seeing my friends' faces in every victim. I'd wake up screaming from dreams I couldn't remember for the life of me.

"Three months ago, the Bozeman sheriff called. He told me they'd caught the guy and that they'd need me to testify."

Danny sat perfectly still for a moment. "I'm sorry."

This time there didn't seem to be any pity in his voice, and she raised her eyes from the throw blanket to study him. When he met her gaze, she was surprised to see a gentle look there, but no pity.

She shrugged for lack of a better response.

His brow creased and he seemed to hesitate. "How did you keep it together for so long?" he finally asked.

"I didn't. I just tried to pretend it wasn't happening. When I couldn't anymore, I had to come back here anyway and I told Mac I had to leave."

"And he just let you?"

Lindsay shrugged. "He let you." She was surprised to see his cheeks flush slightly. If she hadn't been studying his face, she wouldn't even have noticed. "Besides, he knew about the situation when he hired me. I'm sure he assumed this would happen eventually."

Danny nodded slowly. "So Mac knew, all this time, what you'd been through?"

He didn't sound accusing, just a little concerned, but she felt a flush of guilt anyway. "I'm sorry. I asked him not to say anything to anyone," she explained.

Danny leaned forward. "Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. I wish I could have been there for you, that's all."

"You're here now." She smiled tremulously at him. "Will you come to the trial tomorrow?"

His answering smile was crooked, but he merely nodded and relief spread through her. Her eyes dropped for a moment, and she regarded the now ruined tassels with disgust. Sighing, she tossed the blanket aside and pushed herself up from the couch.

"I think it's time for bed. You must be exhausted," she said suddenly, taking in the red tinge to his eyes for the first time.

"Montana, you really don't have to worry about me right now."

She could feel her cheeks warm a bit and hurried away. "I'll go check and see if there are sheets on the bed."

"I think your mom did that," he called, but she was already tripping up the stairs.

Shaking his head, he picked up the bag he'd left next to the couch and started to follow her. At the doorway, he paused and glanced up the stairs. Exhaustion filled him when he thought about everything she'd told him. Leaning against the doorjamb, he ran a hand over his face and willed the anger roiling in his stomach to calm down. She didn't need to see his hatred of the man who did this, she needed him to be solid for her.

She had to be the strongest person he knew for living with this for ten years. He wasn't sure if she had full blown PTSD or simply a case of survivor's guilt, but he didn't have much experience with either so he was going to have to feel his way very carefully.

He trudged up the stairs and looked around curiously. Pictures decorated the walls and he glanced at them as he moved down the hall. School photos and baby photos blended in with the more candid shots of kids playing. At first glance, he thought there were three Monroe kids, but he couldn't spot any school pictures for the second boy in the photographs, so maybe he was a neighbor's kid. He looked about Lindsay's brother's age. Another little girl, blonde and pretty, appeared in several of the photos with Lindsay. Shelby.

Feeling like an intruder, Danny glanced away and peered into the first open door. It was pink. With a canopy bed and window seat. Bookshelves lined almost every wall and were stuffed to capacity.

Danny blinked. Pink? Not at all what he'd expected of Lindsay's room.

Backing away, he continued down the hall and glanced into the next open door. Lindsay was smoothing wrinkles out of the quilt spread over the bed. She glanced up when he stepped inside.

"Your room is pink," he stated, folding his arms across his chest.

She sighed. "My mother's choice. I was ten."

Smirking, he leaned back against the wall and glanced down at the hardwood floor. Remembering their long ago conversation about hardwood and Bronx marble, he didn't hear her question.

"Danny?"

"What?" he asked, his gaze jerking back to hers.

She smiled gently. "I asked if you brought a toothbrush. The bathroom's down the hall," she added, pointing vaguely as he stepped forward to set his bag on the bed. "Let me know if you need anything."

She was almost out the door, and he was still struggling to find something to say, when she turned back. "Danny?"

He whirled around to face her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you. For coming."

"You're welcome," he murmured.

Their eyes held for a moment. He felt a smile spread slowly across his face as color rose in her cheeks. "Good night," she said quickly and disappeared around the corner.

The smile didn't fade as he unpacked his toothbrush and headed down the hall.

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notesofwimsey: Thanks for reviewing! (I would like to state here that, while I have not reviewed on IaLJH, I have been following it almost religiously. Please update again soon. ) I'm glad you see Danny the way I do. I'm halfway surprised he HASN'T given up on Lindsay yet in the show. She pushed him away pretty effectively. I just hope the writers mend everything soon. I miss my flirty banter fix every week.

prplerayne: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter as well. : )

beccy: Thanks for the review! I'm glad the characters don't seem out of sorts; I was a little worried about Lindsay seeming too vulnerable. And Mac is really freaking hard to write. Why is that??

chili-peppers: You're back! Yay! Thanks for reviewing again. I'm glad you like the story so far. : )

Murgy31: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I hope this chapter was as good as the last!

gt4good: Thanks for the review! I hope you keep reading and, more importantly, enjoying.

mel60: "Stuck" with your encouragement? Try grateful for. I'm really hoping they keep in the "I'm losing my mind" speech, too. I don't really care how they do it (as long as it's about Lindsay) as long as they don't cut it like they've cut everything else. Grumble. I feel very protective of DL at the moment. :-p

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A.N. I hope Lindsay's story wasn't too graphic; I was trying to be disturbing but not nauseating. Next chapter will be up tomorrow!


	6. Chapter 6

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When he woke up to his alarm the next morning, he groaned and buried his face in the pillow. It took him a moment to remember where he was, then, blinking blurrily, he sat up and felt around for his glasses on the side table.

Six am sure felt a lot earlier in Bozeman.

Tossing the covers off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and wandered down the hall towards the bathroom. He found a fresh towel sitting on the counter and gratefully stepped into the hot shower.

When he came out twenty minutes later, he could hear murmuring voices in the kitchen. He couldn't tell if Lindsay's door was closed or not, but since she had court today, he assumed that she was already up and waiting.

He dressed quickly, donning his usual court attire. As he draped the tie around his neck, he paused to study his pinstripe suit. In the context of the rustic bedroom, the suit looked fancy, too fancy. For a moment he wondered if things were done differently here. Should he forgo the jacket? The tie?

Before he could decide, he heard a crash outside and was out the door before he thought about it. Racing into the kitchen, he skidded to a halt when Lindsay and her mother stared at him in shock.

"I heard a crash," he explained, his eyes locked worriedly on Lindsay seated at the table. Even though he could plainly see she was fine, his heart was still beating a tad too fast for comfort.

"Oh, they're repairing a fence up in the north pasture this morning. I think they're loading the truck," her mother said from her place in front of the stove.

Lindsay raised her eyebrows at Danny's tie. "You need some help with that?" she asked. The amusement in Lindsay's voice made Molly glance sharply at her then turn to their guest.

Danny looked down then grinned a little bashfully and started tying it. He moved towards the cabinets and pulled a mug out. "May I?" he asked Molly, gesturing towards the full coffee pot.

"Help yourself to anything," Molly told him, smiling warmly. "Breakfast is almost ready. Have a seat."

"Thanks." He wrapped his hands around the mug, holding his tie to his chest as he eased himself into the chair across from Lindsay's at the small kitchen table. "Morning," he murmured to her as he raised his mug.

"Morning. How'd you sleep?" For some reason, she wasn't looking at him when she asked, and he eyed her a bit before answering.

"Great. You?"

Molly lowered a plate in front of each of them. "I don't think she's slept better since she got here."

Confusion was written all over his face as Lindsay turned bright red. "Mom," she said, her teeth clenched.

"I'm just saying," her mother continued, moving back towards the stove. "You didn't wake up screaming for the first time in three weeks."

Danny's eyes whipped back to Lindsay who was approximately the color of a fire truck. "The nightmares?" he murmured.

"Didn't have one last night," she told him, picking up her fork.

Following her lead, he let the subject drop and looked down at his plate, nearly choking on his coffee. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, fried potatoes and fresh strawberries were piled on his plate. He heard Lindsay chuckle and he looked up at her in disbelief. "How did you stay so skinny?" he asked, simply because he couldn't stop himself.

That made her laugh outright and Danny noticed Molly pause in lowering herself into the chair next to Lindsay's. "Fast metabolism," she said, her eyes glowing at him for a moment.

There was a slight look of awe on Molly's face as she turned to stare at him. He met her gaze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Then she smiled and reached out to squeeze his forearm. "Thank you for coming," she murmured, her eyes a little too bright in the sunlit room.

He smiled back out of politeness, but couldn't figure out why she looked like she was about to cry. "When do we leave?" he asked, noticing Lindsay's uncomfortable expression.

"Court opens at nine," Lindsay told him. "We should probably leave in about twenty minutes."

"They've been doing half days," Molly added, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. "It's the only court in town, so they have to share. You should be out by one."

Nodding, he turned back to his breakfast. He could feel Molly watching him and wondered if Lindsay had spoken about him before his unexpected appearance on their doorstep. Molly and Gordon had at least recognized his name, so he could safely assume he'd been mentioned. He wasn't sure what she would have said, though, so he kept his gaze fixed on his plate.

The ride to town took less time than he remembered from the night before, and he was surprised once again by the sheer amount of space as far as the eye could see. Town itself was small and the buildings were all a maximum of three stories high. He was starting to feel both claustrophobic, which really wasn't at all logical, and too vulnerable.

He felt slightly better once they were situated in the back of the court room, but he still had to stifle the urge to glance over his shoulder every now and then. Lindsay had become progressively quieter and tenser as they came closer to town and by the time they were in their seats in the back of the room, her breathing was audible and sharp.

The judge came out and calmly seated himself, appearing for all the world as if a man wasn't on trial for murder. When the warden led a man in an orange jumpsuit into the court, Lindsay's breath hiccupped. Reaching over, Danny gripped one of her hands in his, half expecting her to pull away from the intimacy of it. He was surprised when she laced her fingers through his and held on for dear life, even shifting slightly closer to him on the bench.

After that, things began to happen very quickly for Danny. Court opened with little pretense and both lawyers addressed the jury. It surprised him how young most of the jury members were and he made a mental note to ask Lindsay about it later. Then, Lindsay's name was called and Danny watched with a certain amount of horror as she walked to the stand.

Everyone stared as she came forward, but a few of them had a look in their eyes that made Danny want to run forward and drag her from the room. These had to be the parents of Lindsay's friends. And from the looks on their faces, it was obvious they blamed Lindsay for surviving.

Anger made Danny's fist clench as Lindsay was sworn in. He tried to keep it off his face in case her eyes sought him out in the crowd, but she didn't seem to be looking at anyone in particular except the lawyer who was speaking to her.

"Miss Monroe, could you tell us exactly what happened in the diner that day?" the prosecutor asked standing upright behind his table.

Danny watched Lindsay's chest heave as she drew a deep breath, then she was telling the story she'd told him. She focused on what had happened that day, leaving out all the details she'd given him about the girls she'd been with—he wondered at it until it struck him that everyone in the court had known the girls and didn't need that part of the story.

She was questioned for the better part of half an hour, the lawyers switching places at about the halfway mark. Her voice remained strong throughout, never wavering until she was asked the final question.

"And did Mr. Hanson ever say anything to you or the others?" the defense attorney asked.

"No," Lindsay said, shaking her head.

"So it's possible the defendant wasn't coherent at the time of the shooting," the lawyer added, deliberately glancing at the jury.

"He just pulled the gun and—and shot Shelby. His aim was sure and he didn't hesitate. He never said why." Her voice cracked on the final sentence, and she quickly lowered her gaze to her hands.

The next part was a blur as Lindsay was dismissed from the stand and she walked back towards him. She kept her gaze lowered and his teeth clenched as he involuntarily compared this cowed woman to the spitfire he'd met a year and a half ago. Finally, she looked up and met his gaze, her steps quickening as she came the last few feet towards him.

This time she was the one who reached out to take his hand in hers and she kept a grip on it for the rest of the day. Even when his hand began to fall asleep, Danny didn't move, refusing to let her go.

As soon as the judge dismissed the court, Danny stood and was pulling Lindsay from the room before anyone else was even out of their seats. There was no way he was letting any of those people get near her, especially not the parents who'd stared with a mixture of disgust and dependence. He supposed it made sense. They hated her for surviving, but she was their only hope of putting their daughters' killer in jail.

Despite understanding their position, Danny had no desire to empathize with them.

Wrapping his arm around Lindsay's shoulders, he pushed his way past the few reporters outside and managed to get her to the car in less than three minutes. As he pulled out of the court's parking lot, he decided that he loved Bozeman for their readily available and altogether convenient parking.

"You okay?" he asked after a few minutes, when the town began to appear small in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah." It was too close to a whimper, though, and his hands clenched around the wheel. He desperately wanted to hit something, an urge he hadn't felt quite as strongly in years.

"Mom should have lunch ready when we get back."

Danny glanced at her in surprise. Her tone was breathy, like she couldn't quite fill her lungs, but it had a note of steel to it. She was staring out the windshield, but her chin was raised determinedly, her back ramrod straight.

"That's good. I'm starving."

"You're always starving."

It hadn't been that funny, but he laughed anyway with what felt like giddy relief.

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Lindsay wasn't sure how it had come about, but when she came into the kitchen after her nap, Danny was chopping vegetables with her mother. She stumbled to a stop at the sight, wondering if the world had also tilted on its axis since her mother had ordered her upstairs.

The two of them were chatting about something, but Lindsay couldn't seem to make herself pay close enough attention to tell what. She watched his hands for a moment as he ran the knife through the onion. They were as sure as they were when he worked on trace in the lab and she was surprised that she hadn't known he could cook.

It made sense—he was Italian after all—but she'd never thought about it before that moment.

Suddenly uncomfortable with her own staring, she came fully into the kitchen. "Hey sleepy head," her mother called with a glance over her shoulder. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Need any help?" she asked, coming up next to Danny, but speaking to her mother.

"Oh, I think we're pretty much done. Danny made the salad for us. You could set the table, though." Molly waved at the dining room distractedly as she checked various pots on the stove.

"How'd you sleep?" Danny asked, wiping his hands on a towel and taking plates from her hands.

"Like a rock." Grabbing utensils, she led the way to the dining room. "What'd you do while I was out?"

He shrugged, moving around the table and laying the plates down. "Talked to Mac, finished some paperwork. Talked to your mom."

"Oh God," Lindsay muttered, stopping to stare at his face.

Danny chuckled. "Don't worry. We talked about completely harmless things."

"Like?" she pressed, hands on her hips.

"Like why I became a CSI. Oh," he said with mock panic as he came up next to her. "I think she asked about the Academy."

Rolling her eyes, Lindsay turned back to the table, taking the last plate from his hand. "Could you grab another chair from the kitchen?"

"Sure," he said, still chuckling. When he came back, she was filling glasses with iced tea.

"How many brothers do you have?" he asked, pushing the chair into place. When she paused before responding, he glanced at her, disconcerted by the silence.

"One," she finally answered. She seemed nervous and he filed that information away.

"So who's the last place for?" He really didn't mean to press the subject, he was just trying to make conversation now that the Great Wall of China had come down behind her face.

"Connor. Brad's best friend since we were kids. He helps out around the ranch sometimes. His family owns the property to the east."

Danny nodded, wondering at the fact that she wouldn't look at him. Something strange was going on there, and he was pretty sure Connor wasn't just her brother's best friend. Jealousy made him look away as he struggled to keep his voice even.

"I see."

He heard her sigh and then her hand was on his arm. Surprised, he glanced up to find her standing rather close and looking up at him. "I'll explain later," she murmured apologetically. "Just…not here."

When he tilted his head towards the kitchen, she nodded and went back to putting glasses at each of the place settings. Any thought he might have had was suddenly pushed out of his head by the clattering of what sounded like a hundred boots on the porch outside of the kitchen, which was capped with very loud, very deep voices talking to Molly. He felt his eyes widen slightly and heard Lindsay laugh a little.

"Don't worry. They aren't giants."

He opened his mouth to argue when Gordon was followed into the dining room by two very large men in jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy hats. They crowded into the room behind the older man and blatantly sized Danny up.

He suddenly felt very short.

"Danny," Gordon greeted him, passing through the room casually, ignoring his daughter's presence except for a slight nod in her direction. Danny frowned and glanced at Lindsay, who was staring determinedly at the table and adjusting a fork.

"Who's your friend, Mouse?" one of the men asked, twirling his hand in his hand. He had similar coloring to Lindsay, though his eyes were blue and the cleft in his chin was more pronounced.

Lindsay rolled her eyes and gesture without looking up. "Danny, that's my brother Brad and Connor. Danny is out from New York."

"Dad happened to mention that," Brad said, flashing a cool smile at Danny. "How do you like Bozeman so far?"

"Haven't seen much of it," Danny answered, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

"I thought you went to town today." The words were a challenge, as was the hard gleam in Brad's eye, but Danny refused to bite.

"Didn't stay long," Danny said with a grim smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Lindsay glaring at her brother.

Stepping forward, Connor offered his hand with a smile. "Connor Flanagan."

"Danny Messer. How you doing?"

Forcing himself to relax, he clasped the other man's hand firmly in his own. He tried to ignore the way Brad eyed his friend in dubious confusion, instead basking in the relieved expression Lindsay threw his way. Then it occurred to him that the look could have been directed at Connor. A foul taste settle in his mouth while his skin suddenly felt too tight.

"Danny and I work together at the crime lab," Lindsay explained. She shifted her weight and Danny wasn't sure if she was moving closer or farther away.

"You a CSI, too?" Connor asked with a friendly smile.

"Another nerd then?" Brad cut in before Danny could say anything.

He wondered absently if the silent 'asshole' attached to that question was as audible to anyone else. "Absolutely."

Lindsay laughed and Connor nervously chuckled, eyeing Brad warily. Danny noted the surprise on Brad's face at the sound of his sister's laughter and inwardly sighed.

"We should wash up," Connor said. He nodded at Danny and Lindsay and began moving from the room, deliberately bumping Brad with his shoulder as he passed him.

Brad kept staring at Lindsay for a minute then his eyes flicked back to Danny. Something had eased in them, marginally but noticeably, and when he nodded at Danny, his look was more curious than anything else.

As they filed from the room, Danny felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Sorry about that," Lindsay murmured. "Little overprotective."

"Expected more trouble from Flanagan." He could have bitten his tongue.

Lindsay sighed and made a tsking sound with her mouth. "It's not like that," she told him quietly. "It's…complicated."

"Is it?" he asked quietly, turning to meet her eyes. He wasn't sure what she saw there, but it made her face fall a little.

Nodding, she drew in a shaky breath but closed her mouth as her father reentered the room. Lindsay bit her lip and pulled out a chair to sit when her father did. Danny silently followed suit, his gaze meeting her father's briefly. The older man glanced between them, but didn't say anything.

And for a few minutes, all Danny could hear was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room across the hall. He cleared his throat in the silence but couldn't think of anything to say and both Gordon and Lindsay were staring vacantly into space.

When Brad and Connor, boisterous and laughing, collapsed into their chairs, talking about stud fees. Danny saw Gordon focus his attention on them and once again wondered why Lindsay's father seemed to be ignoring her. Then Molly came through the doorway, and he stood to take the serving dish from her.

"Thank you," she said with a warm smile.

"Do you need anything else carried out?" Danny asked, conscious of the sudden silence behind him.

Molly shook her head. "I'm just going to grab that salad you helped me make."

Carefully, Danny brought the platter of roast beef to the table and began to set it down only to pause when Brad half stood. "Here," the other man muttered, moving a glass out of the way.

"Thanks, man," Danny said, setting the platter in the empty space.

"No problem."

Glancing up, he saw Lindsay staring at Brad with wide eyes and he sighed. He seemed to have thrown everyone off balance with his arrival. Finally, Molly returned with the salad, and Danny lowered his head and folded his hands when everyone else did. As Gordon said Grace, Danny added his own special plea to God that he live through this trip to Montana.

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Dinner hadn't been as horribly awkward as he'd first feared, but he was still exhausted as he rolled into bed that night. After his initial belligerence, Brad followed Connor's less threatening lead in dealing with Danny, albeit with reluctance. However, Lindsay had kept her mouth shut for the entire meal, leaving Molly to fill the silence with bright chatter.

Silence seemed to be a given in Bozeman. Lying back on the bed, Danny strained to hear anything. The quiet roared in his ears until he could hear a vague ringing, like someone running a finger around the rim of a water glass.

Sighing in frustration, he turned to bury his face in the pillow. Everyone was in bed now, had been for a couple of hours, but he couldn't get his eyes to close for more than a few seconds. All he could hear was the sound of an owl hooting every so often and the distant chirping he could only assume was coming from a colony of crickets.

A soft knocking on his door made him jump up with a strange sense of relief. When he stumbled across the room and found Lindsay on the other side, his stomach dropped, though it couldn't have been anyone else. She brushed past him without a word, her arms crossed over her stomach.

"Couldn't sleep?" he murmured, shutting the door. He didn't have his glasses on, but he thought he saw the pale blur of her body shake her head. "You can turn on the light."

She remained silent, reaching over to click the lamp on. Danny blinked in the sudden brightness as he wandered over to the side table and slid his glasses into place. When her image came into focus, he saw her settling herself against the headboard. Her eyes turned to him as he dropped back down on the bed and shoved a pillow under his head.

"I can't keep my eyes closed," she told him, stretching out her legs.

He rolled his head towards her. "Bad…thoughts?"

She frowned and shrugged. "No more than usual. I just can't stop thinking."

Danny nodded. After a minute, his lips curled up on one side. "It's too quiet for me."

Lindsay glanced at him, eyes wide. "I had the same problem when I got here."

They both laughed, trying to keep the noise level down. Lindsay shook her head. "I never thought I'd miss horns blaring outside my window. You?"

Danny pulled himself upright and grinned at her. "Never had anything else."

"You've never been out of the city?" Lindsay asked.

"Does Staten Island count?"

"No."

Her seriousness made him laugh yet again, which, in turn, set her off. After several minutes, they managed to quiet down and Lindsay sighed.

"I'm feeling kinda punchy."

Trailing off into a chuckle, Danny shrugged. He watched her tuck her hair behind her ear, and his heartbeats suddenly felt like they were shaking his chest. When she turned to meet his gaze, he had to look away and think of something—anything—else. He swallowed and stared resolutely ahead of him.

"Lindsay," he murmured, feeling her gaze like heat on the side of his face. "What's going on with your father?"

Her breath caught audibly, so he tried to give her space by not looking at her for a few moments. When she let out a trembling breath, he braced himself. "He's mad at me. Disappointed, maybe, but mad, too."

He nodded and pushed himself upright so he could rest his back against the headboard next to her. "It's really complicated," she said, then winced as she heard herself repeat the same excuse she'd used earlier that evening.

After that, she couldn't seem to get anything else out. Danny waited patiently for her to continue. After a minute or so of tense quiet, he gave up and turned to let her off. "Montana—"

"He wanted me to marry Connor," she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut.

Danny blinked at her. "He wanted you to?" He took her sigh as an affirmative. "Were you going to?"

Running a hand through her hair, she nodded grimly. "Yeah. I was."

Letting this information sink in, Danny swallowed before frowning. "Okay. Why didn't you?"

Lindsay restlessly shifted. "Because I didn't love him. At least, not that way."

"Then why were you going to marry him?"

"A misguided sense of…obligation…debt." She sighed and rubbed her temple. "After the…" she swallowed. "I went to school at the University of Montana, and during my second semester, my dad had a heart attack."

Before Danny could say anything, she hurried on. "Connor helped my brother run the ranch while my dad was in the hospital. He saved my family's farm." Lindsay sighed. "When I came home for the summer, Connor kept taking me out and bringing me flowers and my dad kept smiling at me and he seemed so happy."

Lindsay buried her face in her hands and groaned. "I know it sounds stupid, but I was a different person back then. I was a little lost during that first year of college."

Danny reached out and ran a finger down her hand. "It's not stupid. You were worried about your father."

Lindsay dropped her hands and glanced at him, smiling wryly. "It was stupid." She'd expected disgust for her lack of backbone. Instead all she saw was calm attention. "Connor asked me to marry him when I was nineteen. Well, actually, he asked my father. My father said yes."

"Wait, he asked your father, not you?" Danny looked adorably confused as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Connor's family is very…traditional," she stressed. "He asked for my father's blessing. He got it."

"So, when you said no, your dad couldn't forgive you? That doesn't make any sense."

"I didn't say no." Danny's eyebrows shot up his forehead and she looked away. "We were engaged for five years."

"Five years? Engaged to a man you didn't love?"

"Yep. I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," he murmured, looking away.

"Yes, I am. I told him that I couldn't get married until I was out of school and settled in a job, so we stayed engaged until I was a CSI in Bozeman. That took five years. Then, once I was back here, settled, Connor started talking about the wedding. We started planning. And I panicked."

She shook her head. "I couldn't marry a man I didn't love just to pay my father's debt."

"Did Connor love you?" Danny asked quietly, still refusing to look at her.

"Yeah, I think he did. When I gave him the ring back…he cried. I'd never seen him cry," she whispered, staring blankly down at her fingers.

"Does he still love you?"

Lindsay smiled grimly. "I doubt it. Things got really messy after I called the wedding off. But he was always very nice about it. Understanding. When I went to New York, he and Brad drove me to the airport. He's actually been more supportive of the move than anyone else."

Scratching the back of his neck, Danny nodded. His head was hanging so low to avoid her gaze that his chin was nearly resting against his chest. "You should try to get some rest."

"Danny—" Lindsay started to say, then stopped when he looked up. His face was still calm, though she could see the tension holding his shoulders rigid. The lamp behind his head made it hard to see his eyes and, realizing she was staring, she dropped her gaze. "I'll see you in the morning."

She slid herself off the bed and walked hurriedly towards the door, feeling his eyes on her the whole way. Maybe he did feel the disgust she'd feared before telling him. Maybe he thought she was a spineless idiot who'd never been meant for anything more than being a small town CSI.

"Lindsay," he said behind her as her fingers brushed the doorknob.

Stealing herself, she looked over her shoulder and found him in the same position she'd left him, shoulders rigid, arms crossed tightly across his chest. But she could see his eyes now and she wondered at the emotions raging in them.

"It's really none of my business." The words were hard, but his face was apologetic.

And, as easily as that, she could identify what she saw swimming in his eyes: jealousy. So simple. She felt her muscles relax and one corner of her lips turn up in a gentle half-smile. "Of course it is."

His face relaxed just slightly, and she swung the door open with more peace. Sneaking back down the hall, she slipped into her room and leaned against the door for a moment.

Danny Messer now knew all her secrets. Well, maybe she had a couple of others lying around in the back of her mind, but she couldn't think of what they might be. And she knew that if he ever asked, she'd tell him all about those, too.

The man who'd spent her first few months in New York hazing her mercilessly, nicknaming her Montana to remind her that she didn't belong, giving her the full rookie treatment—that same man was now her best friend.

When had that happened?

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notesofwimsey: Even without Lindsay, Danny is an awesome character; he's also way fun to write. Lindsay is a bit harder for me cuz she's been hiding so much on the show. So I'm glad their interaction is coming across plausibly. On another note, Danny won't be dealing too much with Gordon or Connor in this story, but he does in the sequel that I'm currently working on.

tria246815: Hi and thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

prplerayne: Isn't it amazing how loyal Danny is? It shocked me greatly when they showed us Danny's reaction to seeing Lindsay in Mac's office in The Lying Game and they made it so obvious he still had feelings for her. I mean, I hoped, but they put it on the backburner so long and Lindsay wasn't exactly…encouraging…Yeah. Anyway. Danny's awesome.

Kavi Leighanna: Yay for flirty banter! I'm really looking forward to ep 19, after they wrap up Lindsay's trial. I can't wait to see what the DL friendship/relationship will be like. I'd even be happy if, like you said, they just go back to the friendly, flirtyness for awhile. I'm a sucker for fluff, I know. I'm angry with Lindsay's father, too. You hear that, Gordon? (shakes fist)

Devilla: Hi! Thanks for your review! I'm glad you've become addicted. I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last few.

CrazyGabs: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad the story wasn't too sickening. I toned it down a bit from the original, so I guess that was a good idea:-p

Marue61: Hi and thanks for your review! I hope you liked this chapter!

gt4good: Thanks for reviewing again! Welcome back! More Danny in Montana coming up. :-p

chili-peppers: Yeah, poor Lindsay. Her intimacy issues are pretty understandable, I guess. :-/ Thanks so much for staying with the story! I hope you liked this chapter!

The Little Corinthian: Hi and thanks for reviewing the story! They're so fantastic together. I love them apart, but together is so much better. : )

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A.N. Hey guys! The story is starting to move pretty fast now. Let me know if it's too fast. The next chapter will be up tomorrow or maybe later tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

A.N. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. I really appreciate the encouragement. And I'm glad I'm getting this up before next week's ep with all its potential to blow my imaginings out of the water. : p

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The next several days went by in a blur of activity for Lindsay. Greg called her and told her that he believed the case to be fairly open and shut now that they'd established Tom Gunter's presence in Bozeman at the time of the shootings. Several witnesses had stepped forward who remembered Gunter getting into an altercation with the foreman of his construction job just a day before the attack. The incident had resulted in Gunter being fired from the crew and several of the men present remembered him as being very disgruntled.

Lindsay nodded, though Greg couldn't see her, and said the right things to make him think she was fine with all of this. No, going on the stand one more time wouldn't be a problem. Yes, of course she was going to be there for the duration of the trial. Yes, of course she would sit closer to the front tomorrow. Yes, she understood this kept her in the jury's line of sight.

Danny could only stay a few more days. Through clever manipulation of the scheduling system, Mac had managed to find him a week of vacation time in addition to the usual days he was on call. But all in all, it was only 11 days and the trial was slated for at least another couple of weeks.

The idea of sitting in the front row of the courtroom without Danny's hand to grip made goosebumps break out over the flesh of her arms and her stomach roll. But she didn't tell him that when he mentioned his ticket was for the following Thursday.

All she said was, "I hope you didn't get the red-eye."

To keep her mind off his impending departure, Lindsay began to show him Bozeman. She brought him to the only pizza place in town, but couldn't figure out a way to make him eat it. She took him to the river, the old barn, drove him to the mountains and out to a real live wheat field.

He insisted the New York skyline was more beautiful, but mollified her by saying that wheat was nice, too. She didn't tell him how much she missed the tall buildings and city lights at night. Instead, she turned up her nose and headed back to the car leaving him to trail her, chuckling.

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Danny rolled over and grimaced behind his closed eyelids as the sun streaming through his open curtains settled on his face like an electric blanket. Sighing, he reached over to fumble for his glasses and slipped them on as he left the bed. After a quick shower, he pulled on jeans and a tshirt, which he was pretty sure were acceptable in Montana on the weekends.

Wandering down to the kitchen, he found it empty and wondered if he was awake before Lindsay. Molly had obviously been there, though, if the full pot of coffee was any indication. He helped himself and moved back through the house to step out on the front porch.

All of the Monroe ranch spread out in front of and behind him, the grass seeming to glow in the morning sun. Voices were coming from the side of the house, so Danny stepped off the porch, the screen door slamming shut behind him, and followed the brick path.

He spotted Brad leaning his forearms on the top rung of a wooden fence around a small dirt enclosure. Gordon was inside—what did they call it?—leading a horse in a circle by a long rope. Danny stepped up next to Lindsay's brother, who merely nodded at him.

"Morning," Danny muttered, mirroring Brad's pose and lifting a foot to rest on the lowest rung. They watched Gordon without speaking few minutes. "What's he doing?"

"You've never seen anyone break a horse?" Brad asked mildly.

"Don't get many horses in the crime lab."

Brad smirked a bit. "Training. He needs to get used to humans leading him around, basically."

"Wasn't he born here?" Danny stifled a yawn as the sun beat down on the side of his face.

Tipping his hat farther back on his head, Brad seemed to be considering his answer. "You think being born in captivity makes them forget freedom?"

It was completely corny, but Brad said it so seriously that Danny restrained his chuckle and shrugged instead. "Like I said, don't know many horses."

"You should meet one. They might teach you a thing or two."

Raising his eyebrow, Danny took a sip of coffee and ignored the advice. "Lindsay rides a lot, huh?"

Brad shrugged. "No more than any other rancher's daughter I'd guess. She never competed or anything."

"Competed?"

"Barrel racing, city boy. Big sport around here."

"I'll have to check that out," Danny said wryly.

Brad chuckled, not offended in the least. "You're saved by the season. Barrel races won't start for a few months."

"Damn." Danny smirked, and they lapsed back into silence.

After awhile, Brad said without glancing over, "Lindsay'll be getting up about now."

Nodding, Danny stepped back from the fence and began to retrace his steps, thinking forward to the next cup of coffee.

"Hey."

Glancing back, Danny found Brad looking straight at him for the first time all morning. "How's she doing at the trial?"

Danny looked away then met Brad's eyes again. "She's doing great."

Brad nodded and turned back to his father. Danny found he couldn't refrain from asking anymore. "How come no one comes to the trial?"

He watched as Brad dropped his head down to look at his own shoe kicking the dirt. When he raised his head again, it was a moment before he turned to face Danny. "She asked us not to."

"And you listened?" Danny asked incredulously. After a week of being the only one there for Lindsay, he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

Looking uncomfortable, Brad sighed. "You don't know Lindsay—"

"Yeah," Danny interrupted stonily. "I do."

Brad tensed and a long while passed before he nodded again. "You staying long, city boy?"

"End of the week."

"Will the trial be over then?"

"No." When Brad didn't respond, Danny turned disgustedly and walked back to the house.

In the kitchen, he found Lindsay seated at the table. She smiled at him as she sipped her coffee and he dropped into the chair across from her.

"So, you and Brad are bonding now?"

"Oh yeah," Danny said sarcastically, but kept his face calm. "You know our mutual love of horses and all."

Molly stepped into the room, trying an apron around her waist. "What's so funny?" she asked, seeing Lindsay's smirk.

"Danny's turning into a cowboy," Lindsay told her, smiling at Danny who tried to appear all suffering.

He muttered something in Italian, and Lindsay let out a throaty chuckle. Molly shook her head indulgently as she set two glasses of fresh orange juice in front of them. "We'll have to get him a Stetson, then, won't we?"

Danny felt warmth starting under his collar and suddenly wished to be back out in the chilliness of the morning. But Molly and Lindsay let the teasing drop and he took a deep breath.

"What are you two up to today?" Molly asked, lighting the range under a large skillet.

Lindsay shrugged, ducking her head to hide a smile. "I've got a few things planned."

"I really don't like the sound of that," Danny muttered, but Lindsay just shook her head as Molly looked on with a warm smile.

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"Okay," she said, pulling the truck back on the highway. "We have one more stop to make today."

Danny shifted so he was leaning back against the door slightly facing her. "How are you going to top cattle wrangling?"

"Believe me, the place we're going is way better than hustling."

"Oh yeah? Where's that?"

"You ever have fresh ice cream, city boy?" she asked pertly.

Smirking at her use of the nickname Brad had given him, he shrugged. "Probably at some point."

Lindsay's snort surprised him. "Oh, you'd remember."

The trip back to town only took a few minutes, and Danny watched her as she shifted the old truck easily. "Your dad teach you stick?" he asked.

Lindsay glanced at him. "Yeah. In this truck, actually. I think I was about fourteen, why?"

Danny shrugged. "Just curious." When Lindsay raised an eyebrow, he cleared his throat. "City's not really a place to learn so my dad—"

"Wait. Are you telling me you can't drive a stick shift?" she interrupted him, astonished. "But…you drive a motorcycle." Danny shrugged again, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Do you want to learn?"

He stared out his window resolutely. "Not right now."

"Okay," she said calmly. "Ice cream first, then lesson."

"Montana—"

"Here we are," she chirped, pulling into a space in front of a tiny building sandwiched between an accounting office and a bookstore.

Danny eyed the shack-like structure distrustfully. "Uh, Montana?"

But she was already out of the car and holding the shop door open, smiling at him over her shoulder. Sighing, he closed his door—still wondering over the idea of not locking your car—and followed her inside. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, the small bell above the door tinkling quietly, the scent of warm cream and sugar assailed him. Breathing deeply, he wanted to moan in pleasure.

"Lindsay Monroe," a voice said from behind the counter. Danny blinked in surprise at the little old man wiping his hands on an apron with a huge smile creasing his heavily lined face.

"Hi, Mr. Parsons. How are you?" Lindsay stepped up to the counter with a shy smile, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

"Doing fine, just fine. But the question is, how are you?" he asked seriously, holding Lindsay's gaze.

Lindsay shrugged and forced her smile to stay fixed in place. "As well as can be expected, I've been told."

"I'm sure you're doing fine," he assured her with a light pat on the hand Lindsay had resting on the counter. The twinkle was back in the man's eye as he spotted Danny over Lindsay's shoulder. "Always was a tough cookie," Mr. Parsons told Danny.

"Still is." Lindsay felt a wave of embarrassment when Danny winked at her.

"So who's your fella?" Mr. Parsons asked, pulling out a large cone and moving behind the glass case full of ice cream barrels.

"Oh, this is Danny. Messer," Lindsay stammered, unsure whether she should explain that Danny wasn't really hers to begin with. "Danny, this is Mr. Parsons."

"Nice to meet you, son."

"Likewise."

"Abby!" the old man suddenly yelled.

"What?" came a brittle reply from the back room.

"You'll never guess whose standing in the middle of our shop."

"Who?"

"What kind of guess is that?" Mr. Parsons muttered, still scooping ice cream into the cone.

"Harold, who in the world—" The woman stopped in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. "Well, as I live and breathe."

Lindsay grinned as the older woman came around the counter to pull her into a tight hug. "Hi Mrs. Parsons."

"Would you hear that, Harold? Mrs. Parsons. You're not a child anymore, dearie. Call me Abby."

The woman's green eyes twinkled with the same carefree mirth as her husband's, a trait that had endeared the elderly couple to several generations of the children of Bozeman. (All of who had been convinced at one time or another that the Parsons were really Mr. and Mrs. Clause in disguise.)

"We heard you were in back in town for that awful trial," Abby murmured, patting Lindsay's cheek sympathetically. "How are you?"

"She said she's fine," Harold said loudly making Abby glare at him.

She turned back to Lindsay and started to speak then spotted Danny. "And who is this?" Abby asked, turning towards him with a warm smile.

"That's Danny," Harold said from behind the counter. "That's her fella."

At the second mistake, Lindsay felt the need to intervene. "Oh, he's not my—"

"Danny, eh? Short for Daniel? Good strong name," Abby decided, not waiting for an answer. "You look like a chocolate man."

"Excuse me?" Danny asked, leaning forward as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Ice cream, dear. Chocolate?" she asked, moving to join her husband behind the counter. Lindsay stifled a laugh at the expression on Danny's face, only to choke on it when Mrs. Parsons turned back to her. "Lindsay's more of a praline girl."

"Strawberry," Harold corrected, holding out a cone to Lindsay.

Reaching out to take it, Lindsay started to thank him when Abby snatched it back. "Praline, you silly man."

Harold sighed. "Put a scoop on top, then."

Grumbling to herself, Abby did just that then handed the cone to Lindsay with a large smile. "Here you go. Put a double scoop on for Daniel, Harold. Chocolate and praline."

"Chocolate? Praline? No, no. He's a fudge brownie sort, aren't you, Daniel?"

"Both sound great," he answered with a charming smile. Lindsay marveled at his unruffled calm, but concentrated on not letting the Parsons see her fumbling for her money.

"You put that right back, missy."

Caught red handed, Lindsay bit her lip and stuffed the ten in her pocket again. Abby topped the fudge brownie with a scoop of sweet cream and held it out to Danny. "Your money's no good here, young lady. Neither's yours," she added warningly and Danny's hand slid away from his back pocket and wallet.

"Thank you," they chorused respectfully.

"Has she taken you out to the river, yet, Daniel?" Abby asked, setting napkins down on the counter for them.

Danny picked up his and Lindsay's, handing one to her before answering. "Yes, ma'am."

"Beautiful, isn't it? All those trees." Abby sighed, a faraway look in her eyes.

"It is," Danny agreed.

Lindsay barely refrained from raising an eyebrow. When she'd brought him out there, he'd asked her whether or not she preferred Times Square.

"All right, let them go about their business, Abby," Harold urged, waving a little at them both. "Enjoy your ice cream."

"Always do," Lindsay said. "They don't make it like this in New York."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danny's head jerk towards her, but he didn't say anything except a polite goodbye to the Parsons. When she started towards the door, Danny followed.

The old couple stepped closer together and Harold's hand automatically went to the small of his wife's back. "You bring him back before you leave, you hear?" Abby called as the door swung shut behind them and Lindsay waved as she and Danny started down the street.

"Aren't they fantastic?" Lindsay asked happily as they walked down the street.

Danny nodded and licked at his ice cream. His silence was making her a little nervous, but she spoke through it. "Were you overwhelmed? Most people are overwhelmed by them at first," she explained.

Shaking his head, Danny eyed his double scoop. "Nah. They remind me of my grandparents."

"Really?"

"My aunts, too. Those two must be Italian," he joked, finally glancing at her.

Lindsay smiled and licked at her strawberry. "Nope, Irish."

Chuckling to himself, Danny returned to his ice cream. "This is good," he said after a minute. When she didn't reply, she saw him glance over at her out of the corner of her eye. "Montana?"

She felt the blood drain from her face, and she slowed to a stop right in the middle of the sidewalk. Following her gaze with a frown, Danny spotted a woman about halfway down the block, looking in a window.

Danny scrutinized the woman more closely. She looked familiar, but he knew he hadn't met her. The only people he'd met in Bozeman were Lindsay's family, the Parsons and the teenage boy who'd been working at the pizza parlor—if one could call it that. So, the only place he would have seen this woman was the courthouse.

And it clicked. This woman was one of the people who'd glared at Lindsay. One of the parents, he guessed. The woman started to turn towards them and he heard Lindsay suck in a breath.

Acting quickly, he grabbed Lindsay's elbow and forcefully turned her back in the direction of the truck. "You don't have to face her," he murmured quietly as they strode quickly in the direction they'd come.

Lindsay's breathing was slightly labored, but Danny wasn't dragging her behind him; her feet moved as quickly as his own. He supposed he should be grateful for small miracles.

They reached the car, and Danny paused to assess the situation. He couldn't drive a stick, and Lindsay didn't seem capable at the moment. Apparently, he paused too long because suddenly he heard a voice behind them.

"Lindsay?"

His eyes slid past her frozen expression to the woman standing behind her. Lindsay's eyes slid closed for a second, and then she turned to face the woman, her face carefully neutral.

"Hello, Mrs. Finch."

The woman visibly swallowed and nodded. "I just—I wanted to say thank you."

Lindsay jerked slightly and unconsciously leaned back a bit. "For what?" she whispered, only able to find her voice after she felt Danny's arm brush against hers for an instant.

"For what you're doing." Mrs. Finch's voice was thick and she turned to the side to clear her throat. Lindsay noted the way Gwen's mother had her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse and felt another wave of the all familiar empathy slide through her.

"I know what I said to you in that hospital was unforgivable," Mrs. Finch said. Lindsay stared at her, a lump beginning in her throat. "And I hope you never have to experience what I did, never be able to understand what drove me to say it."

Shaking her head, Lindsay tried to stop the other woman's words, but Mrs. Finch wasn't finished. "But I hope you do know that I never blamed you. Not really. And that none of this was your fault."

When Lindsay felt Danny's hand settle into the small of her back, she swallowed. "Thank you," she finally responded, letting her eyes find Gwen's mother's for the first time in ten years.

"Thank you," Mrs. Finch stressed. "For putting that monster where he belongs." Tears started running down the other woman's face and she looked away to hide them. "Excuse me."

Lindsay watched as Mrs. Finch hurried down the street, still clutching her handbag like a lifeline. She felt the cone tugged from her hand and cold air around her for a long minute, then she was being gathered against something warm and she realized that Danny was cradling her against his chest.

His fingers tunneled through her hair as she buried her face against his neck and he murmured something in her ear, too quietly for her to understand. She couldn't even tell if it was English or Italian, but it did the trick and she felt herself relax in his arms as something deep inside her finally eased.

When she sniffled and stirred in his arms, Danny immediately stepped away and opened the door to the truck. She wiped surreptitiously at her eyes and climbed into the seat.

"Be right back," Danny said, closing the door and hurrying back into the ice cream shop.

Lindsay didn't have the energy to wonder at it and went back to buckling her seatbelt, which suddenly took all the concentration she had. Leaning her head against the seat, she focused on taking deep breaths, time moving at a seemingly impossibly slow pace.

The sound of the passenger side door screeching open made her jump and her eyes open sluggishly. Rolling her head to the side, she saw Danny climbing inside with a large bag, which he laid on the floor between his feet. He raised his eyes to meet hers and held them for a long moment.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Facing the wheel, she nodded and reached down to start the engine. They drove back to the house in silence. But it was easy and a few of the demons that had been in the car with them earlier were gone.

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notesofwimsey: I'm glad things don't feel too fast. I felt as though I was jumping around a bit in time, maybe cuz I wrote the chapter out of order; I don't know. I've never written anything above a PG-13 rating before, so the wild sex might be out for now. :-p But we'll see about the sequel. It might fit in better with the overall feel and meaning of that story. And I always say, one should try new things…

Tenley: I do feel rather partial to Connor. He's quite a hottie in my mind. I'm glad you're liking the story and that it's not going too fast. I hope this chapter was as good as the last!

mel60: It has to be said again—Danny is awesome. And I really love him in this chapter. I really, really do. Which is bad considering he's a fictional character. (looks uncomfortable) Anywho. The Monroe clan is extremely dysfunctional, especially with the close-ties with Connor, but Molly and Brad are pretty cool. Gordon is still on my shit list, though. (shakes fist)

mercy4vr: Thanks for reviewing! Dialogue is definitely my favorite part to write, so I'm glad it's coming across well. I hope you liked this angsty chapter as well: )

qt4good: Aw, geez. Sorry about your name. I feel particularly lame because I kept trying to figure out what "G" "T" might stand for and couldn't come up with anything that made sense. : p Anyway, Jealous Danny is an interesting side to him. I thought he'd be much less calm about the whole thing, but that's not how it played out at all. Strange, eh?

YaNkEeSbAbE: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're liking the story. I hope this chapter turned out as well as the last!

prplerayne: I'm still kind of feeling out Connor's character, so we'll see where that goes. But I kinda like him. : p I wasn't planning on the whole engagement thing, it just popped out during a scene I actually didn't include between Lindsay and Brad. And I decided to run with it. (shrugs) Could be cool.

CrazyGabs: I hope the heating's back on! I'm not sure this chapter was shiver worthy, but I hope you liked it as much as the last one.

chili-peppers: I love Danny, too, which probably comes across quite clearly in here, huh? I'm seriously glad about the pace of the story. I really was worried about it jumping around too much. Maybe just because, like I told notesofwimsey, I have a tendency to write things out of order. So it never feels linear to me. But I'm glad I was mistaken!!

berta101: The delayed update is no reflection on how much I love you guys. I hope you know that. Because I would be less enthusiastic about updating if it weren't for all my rocking reviewers.

The Little Corinthian: I think Danny's subconsciously relishing the fact that Lindsay is relying on him so much. In some ways, it's a complete turn around from the buildup on the show, but I just didn't see Lindsay holding back from Danny after he flew across country to support her, you know? Pssh, of course they're soulmates.

Leanne: Hi and thanks for reviewing! Flirty banter is my favorite form of communication. I don't think there's been enough of it this season, and it's one reason NY became my fave of the CSIs. You hear that, Powers that Be? More flirty banter! But I do love the deeper level the show seems to be implying for Lindsay and Danny this season. So…I guess I can't complain too much.

Quigon: Thanks for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I hope you liked this chapter as much as the others!

DL4EVER: Hi and thanks for the review! Aw, the best? That's so nice. I hope this chapter was as good as the others. And please keep reviewing!

catey123: Welcome to the story and thanks for reviewing! Sorry this chapter took longer to get up than the others have. The next (and final) chapter should be up tomorrow.

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A.N. Last chapter is due up tomorrow, depending on whether or not I can finish the first chapter of the sequel. I'm trying to get that story at least halfway finished so I can keep up my posting rhythm. : p


	8. Chapter 8

A.N. Thanks to everyone who stuck with and reviewed this story! It was fun to write it and I'm really glad I managed to post it before ep 18. (sigh of relief) I'm sure everything I've written will be destroyed by that episode. :-p

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"You didn't get cherry?" Brad complained loudly as Lindsay brought out bowls.

"I didn't get anything," she reminded him testily. "Danny bought it."

"Did you get fudge brownie?" her brother asked, this time directing his question to Danny who'd been watching the two bicker all evening with a completely bland expression.

"Ungrateful little," was all Lindsay got out before her father slid his eyes in her direction and her mouth snapped shut.

"Thank you, Danny," Gordon said with a small smile.

"You're welcome, sir." He stood to take some of the containers out of Molly's hands.

Lindsay dropped back into her chair and placed the last bowl and spoon in front of Danny's place. She watched him as he began opening the ice cream cartons, his biceps flexing, his face a mask of concentration. That afternoon had marked the third time she'd been in those arms and they were really starting to become a distraction.

Dropping her eyes back to her bowl, she let the conversation flow around her as her mind drifted back to Mrs. Finch and her apology. Somehow it felt as if a giant tear in her heart had begun to mend. It still hurt a bit if she poked at it, but it didn't leave her feeling quiet as empty and broken.

She wondered if it would ever heal completely, but shrugged the thought aside as her brother handed her a carton.

"Here," he mumbled, busy with his own bowl.

Taking the strawberry ice cream from him, she smiled and glanced at Danny out of the corner of her eye. Apparently, he really liked this ice cream if the six cartons he'd bought were any indication.

"So," Molly said without preamble, studying Danny across the table. "You're leaving day after tomorrow."

Danny glanced up from the sweet cream carton. "Yes, ma'am."

"Has Lindsay taken you out riding yet?" Molly asked, spooning up some of the ice cream in her bowl. Her eyes locked with Gordon's and Lindsay saw her father shrug almost imperceptibly.

"Uh, no. No, she hasn't, but that's because I don't ride."

"Not all?" Molly's voice was even and unsurprised, though she smiled kindly. "It's really not that hard. The horse does most the work."

Danny shot her a grin and Lindsay watched in amazement as her mother blushed a little. "I'm not sure I'm the riding type."

"City boy," Brad muttered, but it wasn't malicious, so Lindsay refrained from kicking him under the table.

Danny pretended not to hear him. "I lean more toward Harleys than horses."

"You have a Harley?" Lindsay hid a smile at Brad's longing tone.

"Nah. Looked at a few when I was buying, but decided on a Ducati."

"What changed your mind?" Brad asked, leaning forward with interest. When Danny managed to answer that question, Brad shot him another one and another one. Even Lindsay's father joined the conversation as Lindsay and her mother silently listened.

"I hope you wear a helmet," Molly said mildly when they paused in their discussion.

"My mother just bought me a new one for Christmas," he assured her with a large smile.

It hadn't occurred to her at first, maybe because she wasn't looking for it, but now she watched her family with Danny and came to a sudden, sinking, realization. They'd claimed him. They now considered him part of the Monroe clan.

Her father wasn't exactly welcoming Danny with open arms like Brad and Molly, but Gordon wasn't exactly shutting him out either. Despite the fact that her father still wasn't speaking to her, he'd looked at her more since Danny arrived; had acknowledged her presence and listened when she spoke.

It did, at least, inspire hope.

But Lindsay wasn't sure how she felt about all of it. About her family adopting Danny as their own. It was worrisome to say the least, considering she'd never even been on a date with him and they seemed to be mentally planning a wedding.

In spite of her reservations, she had to admit it relaxed her a bit to know that Danny had won over her family. Obviously she wasn't the only one lacking immunity to the Messer charm.

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When it was time for Danny to leave a few days later, she felt a lead weight settle at the bottom of her stomach. She drove him to the airport, knowing this was the last time she could talk to him and see his reactions, but unable to think of anything to say. By the time she parked the truck and Danny had lifted his duffle from the bed, a rather sizable piece of panic was lodged in her throat.

But Danny just smiled and began walking towards the glass doors of the terminal. She silently walked next to him, their shoulders brushing.

"Just a couple more weeks," he murmured, reaching over to take her hand.

He'd held it more times than she could count in the last eleven days, but it still made her heart jump. "Yeah."

"I wish I could stay, but Mac—"

She forced a smile. "I know. It's okay. I'll be okay." She wasn't entirely sure about that last part.

He squeezed her hand. "Yeah, you will."

They stepped into the terminal and paused, the automatic doors behind them trying vainly to shut as they stood there. Lindsay turned to Danny and gestured towards the desk. "You should check in."

He nodded, staring down at her. "You come home soon, okay?" he said with a worried note in his voice that made the lump in her throat a bit more desperate.

Unable to speak, she threw her arms around his neck and breathed in his scent. His duffle dropped to the ground beside them, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, but slowly she became aware of the sounds of the airport moving around them and she took a deep breath.

Stepping back, she was surprised by Danny's hands smoothing the hair back from her face and holding it there as he stared down. She met his eyes and almost winced at the tenderness there.

Licking her lips, she gently set his hands away. "I'm still not ready, Danny."

She knew that her eyes would be begging him to understand, but she watched with resignation as his expression grew shuttered. She shook her head.

"I've spent the last ten years knowing he was out there somewhere. My entire life was based around that. It's even why I became a CSI. Now that part of my life is over, and I can start fresh," she told him, her eyes locked on his. "But I have no idea where to begin."

She sighed. "I have to figure out my own life before I can drag you into it." She gently set her finger on his lips when he started to argue. "I know you could handle it. You're probably the only man I know who could. But I can't," she whispered, lowering her hand.

He could feel himself softening at the heartbreak on her face. "Lindsay—"

"Please don't argue with me or even tell me it's okay. Anything you say is going to make this harder," she explained.

Her hand was resting on his chest and he reached up with his own to cover it. "One day, I'll be ready," she said, a hint of her usual determination rising in her voice. "But I'm not going to ask you to wait for me. That wouldn't be fair."

Smiiling tremulously, she quickly stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

She moved back, only to have him catch her hand.

"You might not ask me," he said without a trace of a smile. "But I'm gonna wait."

"Danny—" she started, biting her lip when he shook his head.

"One day you'll be ready." He stepped backwards towards the security gate. "And when you are, I'll be waiting for you."

"You might regret saying that later," she called as he backed further away.

He paused. "Montana, you got a city boy to fly across the United States to a veritable wheat field. I don't think I'll be changing my mind."

She laughed and waved, just catching his wink before he turned and walked through the security gate.

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When Lindsay got back to the house, she sat out in the truck for awhile after turning off the engine. The sprawling ranch land spread out in front of her, but she couldn't see it really. She wondered if Danny had boarded the plane yet.

Her fingers itched to pick up her cell, but she laid her forehead against the steering wheel instead. She didn't feel like crying, exactly, just forgetting that the world existed for a minute or two.

A sharp rap on her window made her leap backwards, knocking her head against the seat. She turned to glare out at Brad, who was smirking a little. Opening the door, she stepped out and slammed it shut again.

"Hey. You all right there?" he asked, gesturing to his own head.

She sighed and stepped around him. "I'm fine."

"Mouse—Linds."

Glancing over her shoulder, she slowed to a stop at the serious expression on his face. "What's up?" she asked nervously, her mind running through all the possible disasters that could have occurred in her absence.

He raised a finger to knock his hat back a little on his head. "Just wanted to let you know that I'll be coming with you tomorrow."

Lindsay's body froze. "But what about—"

"Connor said he could come out and help, Dad until it's all over."

"Brad, you don't have to do that," Lindsay told him, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Of course I do, Mouse." And with that, he was gone, striding back towards the barn and calling orders to the men lounging around outside.

She watched him until he disappeared inside the barn, then shoved her hands in her pockets and headed for the kitchen. Molly was there and smiled when Lindsay walked in.

"You wanna help me roll out this dough?"

"Sure, let me wash my hands," Lindsay answered quietly, rolling up her sleeves.

Molly was silent until Lindsay stepped up next to her. "Danny get on the plane all right?"

"They don't let you past the security gates anymore. I had to drop him off out front."

Molly's hands never paused in their careful maneuvering of the rolling pin. "I always forget."

Lindsay turned her head to look at her mother. "You asked me a question a couple of weeks ago."

Molly looked at her in surprise. "What question was that?"

"About what happens after the trial."

Molly's eyes widened, and she hurriedly looked back at the nearly flat dough. Lindsay bit her lip, trying to find the right words.

"What happened…changed me. It made me who I am now. And, yes, it changed where I was going in my life and it's why I became a CSI. But having this chapter of my life close isn't going to change who I am. I can't go back to the person I was before…the shooting. And the parts of me that make me love my job are never going to change. I never saw any of my cases as…replacements for this one. There are still people out there who need help to find peace, and I can give them that."

Lindsay let some of the steel drain from her voice. "After the trial ends, I'm going to go back to New York and try to figure out how to live without a vendetta."

Nodding, Molly sniffled quietly. The women were silent for several minutes, the quiet noise of the rolling pin against the dough filling the kitchen.

"Did Brad tell you he's going with you tomorrow?" Molly asked finally.

"Yeah. When did that happen?" Lindsay murmured. Molly just smiled as wide as she could with her trembling lips and turned back to her pie.

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A.N. Guys, stop throwing things at me! The reason I decided to stop the story here is because the Montana arc is over. The sequel, Two Steps Back, is appearing in the next couple of days and will continue almost immediately where this story cut off. So, could we all just put the tomatoes away? (looks hopeful)

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messermonroe: I'm glad you liked the story. Yes, there will be a sequel. In fact, the first chapter should be posted either tomorrow or Thursday.

Quigon: Ah, Danny. So naïve in the ways of the country.

Miss Higher Power: Thanks so much! I'm so glad the story was believable and realistic given the characters. They're so complex, I was worried I wouldn't do them justice.

Marue61: I'm glad you liked the story. The sequel will be up in the next couple of days. I'm only about a quarter of the way done with it, but I like it so far.

CrazyGabs: Lindsay really is breaking my heart. She's so strong, but so…I don't know. Fragile, maybe? I think Danny is probably the only person who could balance her. He's caring, but not clingy, which is exactly what she needs. Anyway, thanks for reviewing! I hope you make a trip back for the sequel!

scoob2222: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you've enjoyed the story. I hope you try out the sequel!

nyakattia: Thanks for reviewing! You understand Gordon so well! I actually have a hard time dealing with him and his issues sometimes, so it's comforting to know that he's not coming across as evil, but relatable. Sometimes I'm shocked that Danny isn't a phantasm straight from my own imaginings of the (not so but almost) perfect guy. But, you're right, we're totally allowed to love him. :-p

qt4good: Home-made ice cream is so good. I'm from a small town originally, and there was this ice cream shop down the street from my house (so dangerous) where they made fresh cookies and cream every day. Memories. I feel for Mrs. Finch, and I'm so glad she set Lindsay free after all this time. It'll take Lindsay awhile to get completely better, but I think she's well on her way.

prplerayne: I love all of Lindsay's family (even Gordon), but I think I love Brad the most. :-p

chili-peppers: Thanks so much for reviewing! I do hope you come back for the sequel. It's kind of sad that I have to say goodbye to the characters I created for Montana; I got a bit attached. :-p

The Little Corinthian: With Danny gone, everything is going to be a bit harder for Lindsay. But I really want her character to be strong enough without him, otherwise, how can she be strong enough with him, you know? Thanks so much for recommending me to your friend! I'm so touched that you like the fic that much. : ) Wow, that's quite a threat. Danny's sexiness is pretty potent stuff. Careful how you wield that. Hehe.

catey123: I'm glad you liked the chapter and the story! I was pretty interested in how Danny and Brad interact, as well. I wanna explore that a bit more. Maybe in the sequel. :-p

RachelHeidi: Thanks so much for the message! I'm glad you enjoyed the story; I hope you come back for the sequel. I, too, wish Anna Belknap's baby had decided to come at a more convenient time for us shippers, but if the end of this season plays out well, I'll be as excited as if it had happened earlier. That's just how an obsessed person rolls, I guess. Anyway, I hope you liked this final chapter and that you try out the first chap of Two Steps Back!

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A.N. So, Can't Go Home Again has officially come to its end. I just wanted to make another blanket thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Your encouragement was awesome and touching, really. Thank you!


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